Duty And Honour
by TheEvilDog
Summary: What happens when you've saved the land from the Blight, but are left with nothing? A broken land can be healed, but what about a broken man? What happens to a man when he believes in nothing now, least of all himself. Enjoy. Rated M for Mature themes
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**_ Well, like many who completed Origins, I felt kinda torn at how the story ended. So to get over it, I've written this tale. (I also think its safe to say that this is quite possibly an AU story.) So, sit down, relax and read on. I hope you enjoy this tale._

**_Duty And Honour_**

Chapter 1

"A Hollow Victory"

They call him a hero, their saviour, a warrior who defended them from the Blight. They cheer for him in the streets, ruined and blackened by fire and the Darkspawn, but it doesn't stop them from lining the streets to show their gratitude to the one who saved them, who restored their Kingdom and gave them a new King. They call his companions heroes too, the few who stood against the darkness and refused to let it envelop this land. They are heroes, every one of them, even the one who should be here but isn't, the one who should be standing by his side, the one who saved _him_, but she left him.

The troops he led to save this land call him a saviour too, his effort saving them from their own misfortunes. First Enchanter Irving informs him that the Circle of Magi will be staying in Denerim to help tend to the injured and he again thanks the Warden for helping save the Circle, saying there will never be a way he can repay what the Warden has done. Keeper Lanaya greets the Human who helped cure her clan from the werewolf affliction with a warmth the Dalish rarely show to outsiders. She tells him that King Alistair has offered the Dalish the lands north of Ostagar to thank them for their efforts, thanks to the Wardens her people have a home again. The commander of the Dwarves has left a message stating that while they would have stayed for the celebrations, with the Darkspawn defeated they will return to the Deep Roads and the army will needed to ensure that Orzammar will remain safe. But thanks to the Warden they would be united again against the fiends. His respect of surfacers, and of Humans has grown since meeting the Warden.

His friends call him their champion, to them he saved them all, from their past, from the cruel ambitions of others, from their own mistakes and from their own fears. He tells them he is no such thing, but they smile and tell him he is being modest and that each of them will be grateful for what he has done for each of them. The only ones who don't call him anything are his brother Fergus and his Mabari, Beast, but he knows the faithful hound has always loved him. Fergus doesn't call him a hero, but its what he thinks, he'd say it, but he is too happy to see his little brother alive to form the words he wants to say. His brother has changed in the year since they've seen each other, stronger, leaner, more determined but there is something about him now he can't quite figure out. He eventually decides that both of them have changed, the death of their parents Bryce and Eleanor, of Fergus' own family, his wife Oriana and son Oren, and the events of the last year affecting them both in different ways. And while he'd love nothing more then to just talk to his little brother he leaves him be, this is his day and all Fergus Cousland wants is for people to recognise what his little brother has done for them, he is content to stand back and watch over him, as he did when they were children.

Its evening in the Royal Palace at the small banquet Alistair organised for them when Wynne finds the Warden and tells him Alistair came up with the name "the Hero of Ferelden", which explains quite a lot. The mage thanks him for helping her, and the Circle. She thanks him for finding Aneirin and for helping her get past her biggest regret. He asks her what she will do now, and is pleased to hear that Alistair asked her to be the Court Mage, but a little surprised to hear Wynne turn it down, instead choosing to travel to Tevinter with Shale to see about helping the Golem restore her mortal form. He is even more surprised to hear why Shale wished to do so, inspired by a certain squishy being, proving to her that its not so bad to be soft and fleshy. Wynne tells him they will never see each other again, and so she wishes him luck with whatever he chooses to do with his life and he wishes both Wynne and Shale good health, a comment Wynne gently laughs at.

Oghren, though already drunk and a little green after a third barrel of pickle juice, thanks the Warden for helping him find Felsi, and giving him back his life. He'll always consider the Warden as family, something he hasn't had in a long time. He is about to say something else to the Warden when Bann Teagan walks up with a fourth barrel and says double or nothing if Oghren can't finish this barrel in one go. The Warden smiles and leaves his friend, telling him to never change. The Dwarf laughs as he lifts the barrel to his lips.

Zevran and Leliana find him in the palace garden, remarkably untouched by the Darkspawn. He smiles when he sees them, and is pleased to hear they will be staying in Denerim for the time being. Zevran jokes he'd love to see the Crows attack him now, knowing the Warden will defeat them without a problem, but for the time being, the wine is flowing and he feels thirsty. Leliana rolls her eyes as the Assassin walks away and proceeds to tell her friend that she will be speaking to the Grand Cleric in the morning about the possibility of leading an expedition to the Deep Roads, to learn more about the Darkspawn, her own little adventure. She tells him she thought it was her task to save him, she never expected for him to save hers and change her life. She turns to leave, but stops, turning back to give him a brief kiss on the lips. She whispers her thanks to her hero, and wishes him the best, the Bard gliding back to the celebrations.

He spends most of the evening in the garden, twisting the rosewood ring on his finger and looks up the sky, the world and every noise around him fading to silence as he thinks of _her_. Her black hair, her golden eyes, her scent, her tender lips, her laugh, everything about her, especially the pain of their last night together. He becomes so focused, he doesn't even hear the man in plate armour walk up behind him. He nearly jumps as the goblet appears in front of him and the world with all its noises comes crashes back into his ears led by the sound of laughter. He turns, following the golden armour surrounding the arm holding the goblet to see his friend and a man he considers his brother, Alistair Theirin, the new King of Ferelden, his face beaming, though its difficult to tell if its laughter or the wine making him smile. The King tells him he won't tell the others he jumped, but he will find it hilarious for a while. The thought of the Hero of Ferelden jumping like a scared child, especially after what they have both gone through makes them both smile and laugh a little. The two chat for a time, laughing as if the troubles of the world no longer concern them, Alistair trying to decide how long it'll take before he accidentally burns the Kingdom down. The Warden is about to say something when Arl Eamon appears and informs the King that some business needs to be taken care of. Alistair shrugs his shoulders, and pats his friend on the back, saying being King is already shaping up to be as boring as he imagined it would be, he laughs and leaves his friend in the garden.

The celebrations in Denerim have been over for a week and he awakens in his room in the royal palace, his hand covering his eyes as the servant pulls back the curtains of his room, allowing the morning rays of sunshine to burst past the fabric. The young elven woman simultaneously apologises and informs him breakfast would be served soon. She leaves a jug of water by the washbasin and excuses herself before he can even thank her. He walks over and pours some water into the porcelain bowl, washing his face and looking at his reflection in the antique mirror. It takes a moment to recognise the face staring back at him. He is 24 years old, his eyes green, like his father, his hair black, thick and shoulder length. He remembers people telling him he looked much like his father had in his youth, his skin firmer and without the slight jowl his father had in later life, but those comments felt like they were spoken to someone else in another life. His nose, people told him, belonged to his mother's father, slightly longer and sharper then Fergus', but straighter, a little narrower, but not noticeably so, and without the Cousland bump Fergus and his father seemed to have developed by the time they were his age. The curved tattoo on the right side of his face still looked as sharp as it did the day he earned it, the day he earned his spurs 3 years ago. He reaches towards the mirror and touches the marking reflected in it. He pulls his hand back and rubs the stubble on his chin, and he thinks of her and the time she tried to help him shave and accidentally cut his chin on the first stroke of the razor. Her eyes widened in shock and her face had turned white and though she apologised, he just laughed as he held the cloth to the cut. He kissed her forehead and thanked her for trying. He knew she wasn't warm very often, but that had been one of those rare moments he really knew the real her and he felt sure he truly loved her. He knew she feared what she felt about him so he never pushed her, instead finding contentment in the rare moments she opened up to him. As his mind turns back to the present, his gaze returned to his face in the mirror, the smile that had been there quickly fading. He turns and starts to put on the finely crafted dragonbone plate amour. Highever awaited him and Fergus, and a chance to make amends, to say goodbye to those he loved, the ones he loved and failed to protect.

They called him a hero, he knew he was anything but..

As the small army prepared to leave Denerim for Highever, Fergus awaited his little brother, chatting with the people who called his brother friend, gaining an insight to who his brother had become, and with every deed he heard about, his pride in the little boy he had hoisted on his shoulders to get cookies when they were younger, grew and grew. Leliana was the first to see the Warden arrive at the gates, beaming and waved to him. He smiled back and raised his hand in response. His friends wished the brothers luck, Alistair saying he would follow them with reinforcements in less then a week, Leliana and Zevran promising to visit before they left for their own tasks. The Warden thanks them and mounts the horse, following his brother, the two warriors riding off to reclaim their home.

It had been the previous day when Fergus realised what had changed in his brother, between Alistair's coronation and the celebrations there had been little chance for them to talk in private. It was something each of his companions knew but dared not speak about it for fear of hurting him. He had been their strength, the source of their courage for the past year and each of them would throw down their lives to protect him in the same way he protected theirs. But each of them knew that none of them could help him now, no matter how much they wanted to. Fergus realised it when he had looked into his brother's eyes, and he too knew there was nothing he could do.

For all the strength and bravery he had shown and continued to show, Aedan Cousland's heart was breaking and there was nothing he friends and family could do to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Coming Home"

The battle against Rendon Howe's men had been remarkably swift, thanks both to the passage Aedan and Fergus had used to lead a number of soldiers into the heart of the castle and many throwing down their weapons and surrendering rather then facing the man who had slain the Archdemon, the fear overcoming any sense of loyal they had to a dead traitor. The few who did fight, many of them Howe's personal guard, were quickly slain.

As he stood in the courtyard, the fighting over, all Aedan could do was think of what happened that fateful night. Try as he might, the only memories which came to him were blood stained and singed by fire. The fury and pain he felt as he fought through the castle that night still surged in him. It still amazed him that for all the ferocity of the fighting, that it had been over so quickly, he could remember every little detail of the fighting. The look of surprise and fear on the soldier who had burst through his bedroom door as Aedan had decapitated him in one blow, the metallic tang of the blood in the air when he found Oriana and Oren's bodies, the heat of flames from the main hall. All of the memories still fresh in his mind and none more so then the feeling of his hands, slick with his father's blood. He had lost count the number of times he had washed his hands over the last year, and though his hands looked cleaned, Aedan always saw his parents' blood covering them.

Fergus looked at his brother across the courtyard, Aedan's fists clenched and the Teryn could see the fury coursing through his little brother. He could see the guilt his brother felt as well. He knew his brother blamed himself for the fall of the castle. Aedan had been left in command of Highever while Fergus and their father would be fighting along King Cailan's army at Ostagar. Unfortunately that treacherous bastard Howe had used the fact that most of Highever's army would be at Ostagar to stage his coup, feigning a delay in his troops and waiting until the castle had but the barest force protect it. Aedan had been the only one to escape, and it had fallen to him to bring Howe to justice. Fergus never blamed Aedan for what had happened, no one could turn that situation around by themselves, but he knew his brother to know Aedan would never accept that. In his mind, he had been given a duty, to protect their home and their family, and he had failed. Nothing anyone could say would ever change his mind and Fergus knew better then to try. All he could do was hope Aedan could forgive himself one day.

Deciding to do something, Fergus walked towards his brother and put his hand on Aedan's shoulder. He instantly felt the anger fall away from the younger man, only to see the shoulders fall, the pain clear to see.

"Aedan, we have reclaimed the castle, but there is still something we must do before it is our home again." The tone was hushed, calm, but tinged with the same sadness Aedan felt.

He turned his head slightly, careful to not look Fergus in the eyes, and said in a voice the Teryn barely heard, "Very well."

Fergus had left most of the soldiers behind to secure the prisoners, the castle and to clear the dead from the rooms and give them a proper Andrastean funeral, a courtesy Fergus was sure Howe had refused those he had murdered. Only a small group of soldiers travelled with the brothers, to be honest, Fergus had hoped he would no need them for what had to be done next, but he feared he would anyway.

The town of Highever erupted in celebration when the Couslands returned to reclaim their home, the tales of Aedan and his efforts against the Blight heartened the people to fight back against Howe and Loghain. He was shocked to see the joy on the faces of the townspeople as he and Fergus rode to the town centre after reclaiming the castle. He had believed the people would have hated him for abandoning them the previous year, as he had hated himself everyday of that year, it had never occurred to the young lord that they would be so happy to see the brothers alive and well. As Aedan and Fergus reached the market square, they dismounted and were nearly swarmed by the crowd, tears in their eyes that the Couslands were not dead, and had not forgotten them.

"Clear the way to the Teryn and to the Grey Warden!" The voice was raised, but calm, and very familiar. Aedan turned his head and saw a small group of soldiers in Highever livery marching towards him and Fergus. Their weapons were drawn, but their manner wasn't the slightest bit threatening. The knight leading them walked up to the brothers, and stared at them through his helmet, his sword firmly clasped in his right hand. After a moment, the knight bent down to one knee and reversed the sword, the grip pointed towards Fergus. Almost immediately the soldiers followed suit, their intent clear, their loyalty was to the Couslands, to their Teryn.

Fergus asked them to rise and to show their faces. The knight was the first to do so, the red hair falling out as the helmet was removed. Aedan was shocked as he stared at a man he had presumed dead.

"Gilmore?" It wasn't meant as a question, but the surprise of seeing his friend alive made it sound as one. He still looked dumbfounded as Fergus moved forward and grasped the young knight's hand in his own, the joy on the Teryn's face that someone else from his past was still alive summing up how Aedan felt. "How did you escape the castle?" The question felt uneasy as it left his mouth, but Aedan had to ask.

Ser Gilmore turned and looked the Warden in the eyes, the same guilt and regret Aedan still felt plain to see. "Towards the end of the attack, part of the east wall collapsed, the fire destroying part of the support. We were outnumbered, Howe's men were closing in on us. I…. I told the men to retreat. I'm sorry my lord…. We ran".

Aedan saw his friend was almost broken by the guilt of abandoning the family he had sworn to protect. He knew what Ser Gilmore had been going through, he still hated himself for leaving, even though he had not been given a choice in the matter. Others had told him he had to escape, that without him, men like Loghain or that bastard Howe would win and all the good his family had done for Ferelden would be forgotten. He had to survive, they had told him, to do something for the greater good, to make his mark on the world. It hadn't brought him much comfort, but now he could see Ser Gilmore had had no such words of comfort. Aedan walked over and put his hand on his friend's shoulder and in a hushed tone, said; "Ser Gilmore, you did more then anyone asked of you. You stood and fought against overwhelming odds. You fought with honour. What good would you have done if you had died? I know you feel guilt and pain, and I ask you to let it go. You did all you had to, be proud of that".

The pain in Ser Gilmore's eyes lessened as he heard Aedan speak, but though he didn't show it, Aedan felt worse. How could he say these words to someone who really needed them when even he couldn't believe them himself.

Aedan looked up and saw the crowd parting so the Teryn could say a few words to them. Aedan smiled to himself briefly, he knew how much Fergus had hated giving speeches. Fergus had taken a couple of steps towards the platform when he turned and beckoned his younger brother to join him. With a slight reluctance, Aedan followed his brother and stood with him as they faced the crowd. Fergus waited until the people had quietened down before he spoke.

"There are no words to express my joy at returning home, that the town I left still stands even after the horrors that it faced alone. There are no words to express the gratitude for the faith you have in our name, that you welcome us. All I can do, is say I hope to honour that faith you have in us, and to thank you for allowing us home. I swear that as long as this town stands good and strong, there will always be a Cousland here to protect it and do what is right, that is, if you will let us?"

The two men were taken aback by the cheer that rose from the people. They were home. But the difficult part had just begun.

The town had been largely untouched by Howe, most likely to keep his greedy pockets lined from the profit the town made with its forges and the timber the town made. The castle had been another matter. Howe did his best to ruin the ancient keep, the fact the walls still stood spoke of the skill the old stonemasons had when the keep was built. She still stood, bowed, but unbroken, much like the family who dwelt there. They were bowed, but they would be rebuilt, stronger for the pain dealt to them. The brothers had shamed when local stonemasons refused payment for the work. "For all your family has done for us, it would be our honour to help you rebuild your home, we cannot accept any gold for that" the old stonemason had told them when they had raised the topic. Fergus was speechless for once, and it left to Aedan to thank them for their work. The old man waved him off, his lone eye welling up as he went back to work.

Alistair had been as good as his word, arriving a few days later with fresh troops and several surfacer Dwarves, fortress builders who had heard of the state Castle Highever was in and who had offered their services, to supplement the humans craftsmen. The humans were grateful, for though they were able to work with stone well enough, they weren't skilled enough in siege craft, the knowledge the Dwarves offered welcomed with open arms. Soldiers and stonemasons were not the only people Alistair had brought, Leliana, Zevran and Aedan's mabari Beast accompanied him, as well as several Chantry priests. The priests blessed the grounds of the castle and to honour the people who had been murdered there.

The following weeks saw a slow return to normality in the town, the soldiers who had been fighting Loghain and Howe's ambitions alone were welcomed and honoured for their sacrifices. Though most of the army had been wiped out, there were enough veteran soldiers left to create a solid core, and thanks to Aedan's exploits, there were no shortage of recruits for the army. Highever would not be defenceless for long. With the army being rebuilt, Alistair had suggested they also look for new Grey Warden recruits, although they could not put any through the Joining right away, they would be able to rebuild the Wardens properly when the time came. He turned to the Teryn and asked for any suggestions, there was only one man in Fergus' mind who deserved that honour, Ser Gilmore. To the astonishment of the King and the Teryn, Ser Gilmore politely turned down the offer, wishing only to serve again the family he had sworn fealty to. Amazed, Fergus looked at the young knight and smiled at the loyalty he continued to show.

It had been Aedan who found his parents remains, as well as those of Oriana and Oren, kept in the dungeon of the castle, refused the decency of a proper funeral. Aedan's anger grew, wishing Howe still lived so he could kill him, slowly, painfully. His rage growing and seething in him until he saw his father's signet ring and Aedan fell to his knees, the wall he had built to keep his grief at bay collapsing, the pain washing over him like a flood. He wanted to scream, to voice his anger, his pain and his guilt, but the same need to do so also kept him from doing so. His head fell into his hands, even the tears unable to form.

Alistair had wondered where Aedan had disappeared to, and so he searched the castle with Beast in tow, also taking the chance to see the place his friend had grown up in. He wanted to see where the Hero of Ferelden had been raised and where he learned to fight, because Maker knows, Alistair could fight but he was no where near as skilled as Aedan was. The man was a demon when fighting darkspawn, invincible, a juggernaut with a sword in each hand. The King, he smiled at that, he was still getting used to that title, knew that only a few in Ferelden could wield two swords with any real skill, and yet Aedan had done it with ease, or at least he made it look easy. As Alistair passed a door leading to the cellar, he felt hungry and wondered if there was a pantry down there…. Maybe they had some cheese! His mind now focussed on his obsession he walked down the stone stairs. Beast whined, but followed the King into the darkness.

Leliana was telling Fergus about the time in Redcliffe when they were trying to defend the village from the undead that were plaguing it. They were tasked with seeing if a Dwarf named Dwyn would help fight. Unfortunately he had locked himself in his home refused to open the door. The bard went on to tell how Aedan had politely knocked on the door, then had asked for Dwyn to open the door. When the Dwarf refused to do so and hadn't even answered when called, Aedan had decided to try to pick the lock, which he promptly failed to do. Getting annoyed Aedan had stood up, told her, Alistair and Morrigan to stand back and he kicked the door in, doing so on the first try. Dwyn had welcomed them into his home then told them to get. Leliana had begun to laugh as she told Fergus of Aedan's response to the Dwarf, which she was too much of a lady to repeat of course. "Ha! Sounds like my little brother alright. He always hated it when people were being rude.", they laughed as they shared stories of their lives and embarrassing stories about Aedan. In truth, Leliana saw much of Aedan in Fergus, the same confidence, the same easy going attitude. She smiled, but which quickly disappeared when she saw the same pain and sorrow in Fergus' eyes that had been in Aedan's eyes for the previous year. A sorrow that left when he was with _her._ Leliana wished it had been with her with the Warden, but she knew Aedan's heart lay elsewhere. Now, she only wanted her friend to be happy, and if it wasn't with her, then so be it. But she knew right now his heart was broken, he was broken, no matter how much he tried to show he wasn't. As if sensing what Leliana was thinking, Fergus spoke, breaking the silence, "Tell me about Morrigan". With a sigh Leliana began to tell Fergus Cousland about his brother and the Witch of the Wilds.

It wasn't a pantry as he had hoped, but a dungeon, a recent conversion done by Howe, judging by the torture devices which stood scattered around the dungeon. And from what he knew of the Couslands, Alistair believed they wouldn't tolerate such evil anywhere near their home. He remembered the dungeon beneath the Arl of Denerim's estate and shuddered at the thought of what Howe might have done here. He was trying to figure out how the rack worked when he found Aedan. His friend was kneeling, his head bowed and buried in his hands. Alistair saw four bodies, crudely wrapped in sheets and knew instantly who they were. He wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn't form. He looked to his side and saw Beast had lain on the stone floor, whimpering. Alistair couldn't say anything, but he knew he had to do something. He walked over slowly and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. Aedan looked up and though his eyes were red, no tears had fallen. Seeing his friend like this ripped at his heart, and though it wasn't much Alistair managed a quiet "I'm sorry". He hoped it was enough, but believed it wasn't.

Aedan looked up as the hand rested on his shoulder. Alistair stood behind him, the pain at Aedan's loss clear on his face. He knew Alistair wanted to say something, but he could see that Alistair was finding it difficult to even think. All he managed was a pained "I'm sorry". Aedan looked back at the sheets and reached for the signet ring. With all the gentleness he could muster, Aedan slipped the ring off his father's finger and clasped it tight. He stood up and turned to Alistair. "Thank you". The two men left the dungeon in silence, to inform Fergus of what they found, and to prepare for a proper funeral pyre. Beast stood up, and stared at the smallest bundle and with a whimper, followed his master out of the dungeon.

The service had been mercifully short, the brothers stood side by side with Beast, staring attentively at the pyre. Alistair, Leliana and Zevran stood a respectful distance away, with the rest of the mourners. All watched in silence as the four bodies burned on the pyre. All offered their respects to a good man and his family, taken from them by a greedy worm of a man, it was a comfort to them that Bryce's sons still lived and carried on his good name.

To Alistair and his companions it was the least they could do for someone who helped them so much.

To Fergus, it was a comfort to know he wasn't alone anymore.

To Aedan, there was no comfort whatsoever.

A week later, Alistair was preparing to leave for Denerim with Leliana where she would finish preparing for the expedition into the Deep Roads she was to lead. Aedan wished them both luck and that he was sure he would see them soon. Zevran would be leaving with them, after telling his friends he intended to go to Antiva to deal with the Crows. When asked if he needed help, the assassin simply smiled and said he had enough contacts in Antiva to keep him safe for the time being. After a meeting with the Grandmasters he might convince them to leave him be. That or threaten them with the wrath of the Grey Warden who slew an Archdemon. Alistair's hurt tone caused Zevran to offer the King a hug as an apology, that or he could threaten the Grandmasters with an avalanche of tear-soaked tissues from Ferelden's King. Alistair had walked away after that with the assassin making even more outrageous offers with each step. Aedan had smiled and told the assassin to watch his back. Zevran had replied "I'd much rather be watching _your_ back my friend". A comment which had made the young man shudder, and laughing gently, he excused himself and went to bed. Despite all the joking, Zevran looked at Alistair and Leliana and all three knew they were at a loss of how to help their friend.

As the royal caravan left Highever and had entered the forest, it was Alistair who finally voiced his thoughts to the two Rogues. "He's getting worse, isn't he?" His voice filled with worry.

"Wouldn't you, if you were the one to find your nephew's decaying remains, along with those of your family?" Zevran had interjected half-heartedly.

"He was like this before he came back to Highever, and its all that damned bitch's fault!" Alistair's tone was getting angrier with each word. The others knew he was talking about Morrigan and for a moment the carriage was silent. It was Leliana who broke the silence.

"Its not her fault Alistair" Her voice low and soothing. "We're all to blame, even if we don't realise it."

The King's face reddened as he heard the bard and he was about to say something, but stopped, knowing Leliana was right. He leaned back into the seat of the carriage and looked out the window.

Leliana continued, "We all relied on him, we all asked so much of him and what did we give back to him? How often were we there to listen to him, when he always had time to listen to us? We were all so wrapped up in what had happened to us, in _our_ lives, that none of us thought about him, I mean really thought about him. He never asked us for anything, but we kept taking from him. The only times I ever saw Aedan actually happy was when he was with Morrigan. And what did the rest of us do? We hated the joy they had, because we all wanted him. She cared for him, in her own way, even if she didn't want to admit it to anyone. And the rest of us, we were all too blind to see it. She listened to him, even when he said nothing, she cared… no… she _loved _him, Alistair. Can we truly say the same?"

Alistair was visibly uncomfortable, the thought that he had used his friend so weighing heavily on him, all he could do was ask, "If she loved him, why would she leave him?"

Zevran surprised them both with his reply. "When you love someone, you do what you can to protect them, even if you end up hurting them. Morrigan is, at best, an apostate, an illegal mage in a land where the Chantry has the final say, would she allow the man she loved sacrifice everything to be with her? After all, how long can one stay a hero to the people, and have enough influence to keep the Templars at bay? My friends, she left him to give him a life he would never have with her. My guess is, wherever she is now, Morrigan's heart has broken as much as Aedan's. And that is the real tragedy, no?"

The trio spent the rest of the day in silence.

He couldn't sleep, the events of the previous month keeping him awake. As he had done as a child, Aedan left his room and walked through the castle. He left the castle through the servants passage, the same as he had escaped though all those months ago. He eventually found himself in the same clearing he had always gone to when he couldn't sleep. The tree he always sat under still stood there, its leaves and branches looking as untouched as they did when he was a child. It had been a few years since he sat here, but it was still comfortable. Aedan was amazed that despite everything that had happened, this clearing was unchaged. After a few moments Aedan found himself staring at the sky, the stars bright and the moon full. He looked down at the ring she had given him and the memories of her came rushing back to him. The patterns on the ring seemed to shift in the moonlight, and he wasn't sure if they weren't actually moving. He looked away and focused on a single star, alone, even though it was surrounded by thousands of other dots of light. He silently hoped she was looking at the same star as him right now, but knew it wasn't likely. He was about to get up when he felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow and of regret, not from him, but from the ring! Morrigan had told him the ring linked them to each other, he thought she had meant that if he were captured it would allow her to find him, he hadn't realised they were linked in others ways as well. He felt something stir in him, something he thought had died that last night in Redcliffe….. A plan began to form in his mind.

She had stopped for the night, taking shelter in a cave in the Frostback Mountains. It would serve her purpose, protecting her from the elements, the spell she had cast ensuring no animals would disturb her during the night. With the shelter sorted, she turned to her other need, warmth. One advantage about being a mage, she mused, fires were easy to make, and this one will keep her warm, even if she couldn't feel it. She looked out the cave entrance and saw a lone star. She thought of him, the regret of leaving him still weighed heavily on her. Why? Why did she feel this way about him? _Because you love him and couldn't let him suffer. You know given the choice he'd give up everything to be with you. _She should have known better, she knew love was for fools, that it would only lead to hurt so why did she have to fall in love with him? _Because you know he'd take you in his arms and say "If love is for fools, then I am your fool" then he'd hold you closer and you'd feel safe. _She tried to dismiss the thoughts from her mind, but it was impossible. All she could do was to stare at that star and think of him. She wanted to stay with him, to be with him when he awoke each morning, but her life, and her mother's plan meant she wouldn't allow him to give up everything, her last act of love was to make that choice for him. And for perhaps for the first time in her life, Morrigan cried, she cried because of the life her mother had cursed her with, because the man she loved was not with her and because he would never see his child, the child she had used to save Aedan's life. She passed her hand over her abdomen and hoped it would all be worth the sacrifices she made.

She fell asleep alone, a trail of tears still wet on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"The Road to Amaranthine"

The rain continued to hammer at her armour, as it had done for the last four days. The Pilgrim's Path had, by the Maker's Blessing, been mercifully quiet. Just as quiet as the Commander had been for most of the journey, not that she noticed as she had been talking non-stop since they left Denerim a week earlier. She knew she talked too much, but the Commander had let her ramble on, too polite to tell her to stop like her brothers had always done when they were growing up.

They had set up camp for the night, although Vigil's Keep was only a few hours away, the last part of the journey was through a valley which most likely had been flooded by the rain. They would wait until morning to find another way around. As she stoked the fire, the young knight turned to look at the new Commander. He was only two or three years older then her, something she had not quite expected but had pleased her in the end. His eyes were a piercing green, bright and sharp like cut emeralds. His hair was black as a starless night, long and thick. It was also slick with the rain, but he looked as if it didn't bother him. _Of course it didn't bother him, nights like this mean nothing to him. _Her mind chiding her for her foolishness. _Nothing affects men like him, they're like Dragonbone, strong, unbreakable, eternal! _Shaking her head, she looked at him again. His chin was unshaven, the week's worth of stubble giving him a sterner look. But of all the things she found captivating about the Grey Warden, it wasn't his eyes, or the curved tattoo which enveloped his right cheek, it was the ring he played with at times, usually in camp. It was rosewood, that much she was certain of, but every time she looked at it, it seemed to shift, the patterns she thought she could make out changing, sometimes animals, sometimes people. She ended up dismissing it as a trick of the light, the flickering fire playing with her m….

"Mhairi, why don't you get some sleep, the journey to the Keep will be dangerous and I'll need you wide awake." The comment shook her from her thoughts. She looked up and saw the Commander standing up, his back to her.

Feeling her looking at him, he turned his head slightly, and in a relaxed tone, "There isn't any need for the both of us to stand watch. Get some rest and I'll wake you in a few hours".

"Yes Commander, as you say." Mhairi turned and was about to get into her tent when she heard him.

"I told you before, call me Aedan. I wasn't born with the name Commander". It was light, and a little bit of a joke, but the constant use of Commander had began to grate on his nerves. He knew she meant well, but he did have a name.

The knight looked a little stunned, that the Hero of Ferelden had deigned to tell her his name and telling her to use it instead of the title and the respect he deserved. "Yes Commander... I mean Aedan." With that Mhairi went into her tent and fell asleep, dreaming of righting wrongs and slaying darkspawn by the thousands.

Aedan Cousland went back to standing watch, thinking to himself. She meant well, she respected the Grey Wardens, in fact she had been one of the first to volunteer to join when the call had gone out to help rebuild the Order. He thought about her life, at least as much as she had told him. Mhairi had been born to a merchant near Redcliffe, the only daughter in a family of sons. She had grown up listening to tales of the Grey Wardens, of knights who charged whole armies by themselves and of heroes who slew the villain and saved the kingdom. Unfortunately, she had found out that life was never like the tales. At sixteen she discovered she was to be wed to another merchant, expected to spend her life looking after him and raising a family. Mhairi had been horrified at the thought of it and ran away, eventually ending up in Denerim where she joined the King's Army.

The training had been long and arduous, but Mhairi had risen through the ranks, the daughter of a merchant had risen to the ranks and had almost become a knight in less then four years. When Cailan and the army had gone to Ostagar she and many of the younger recruits were left behind, to help guard Denerim. A duty she may have hated, but one that was necessary, Aedan had reminded her, Mhairi's cheeks had blushed slightly at the perceived compliment. She had told the Warden it broke her heart to hear the army had been destroyed by the Darkspawn, and the relief that she felt when Loghain had survived, a relief that faded as soon as Loghain had returned to Denerim, declaring himself Regent and outlawing everyone who spoke against him. Mhairi wasn't at Denerim when Aedan and Alistair led the army they had gathered to defeat the Darkspawn, she had been posted to Gwaren by the Teyrn in the last days of his rule, well her and a hundred of her fellow knights to help stop the riots plaguing the town. She was confused by the hatred she had seen there, that even the people of Gwaren who served Loghain had turned against him.

"You are wrong on one count Mhairi, the people did not serve Loghain, he served them, or at least he should have. The nobility of this land is not suffered lightly, anyone in a position like that is only allowed there because the people will it. Like the Wardens, the nobility serve the people, Mhairi, it is a privilege, not a right, remember that." It had been the longest sentence Mhairi had heard from the Commander, but she took it to heart, and in a way, it endeared him to her. She had looked at him like the girls in Highever had done when he was younger. Not that he had noticed.

Aedan's mind had turned to the events of the previous two weeks, after the Royal Herald had arrived at Highever Castle. It had been four months since the defeat of the Archdemon, but Aedan knew what the message was before the Herald had even delivered it. The Archdemon was dead, but the Darkspawn were still on the surface, worse still, they had been moving northwards, towards the Coastlands, to Amaranthine and Highever. The King had summoned Aedan to Denerim to discuss matters.

Aedan had prepared to travel to Denerim that night. As he had packed, Beast had watched him with the same wonder he had done since he was a pup. Aedan had finished clasping the pauldron of the Dragonbone armour when he saw the Mabari staring at him, the expectation clear in his eyes. _We're going on another adventure, yes? _Aedan looked back at the hound and told him in simple terms, no. As Beast whined, Aedan had bent down to one knee and looked at his friend.

"I have to go away for a while by myself. I want you to stay here with Fergus, make sure he stays safe. Do this for me, please?" His voice was as gentle as it had been whenever he spoke to Beast, he made sure it didn't sound like an order, but a plea to Beast to help Aedan. The Mabari barked in agreement and moved closer, licking his master's face.

"Thank you my friend, I will see you soon. Oh, and leave the new cook alone, I don't think she has Nan's patience. So promise me you'll behave yourself, ok?" Beast's head nodded in agreement, and he raised his paw as if to cement the understanding. Aedan took it and smiled.

As Beast trotted off to find his new charge, Aedan turned and stared at the sword and dagger lying on his bed. They were of remarkable craftsmanship, the material of the highest quality, and yet, they were plain. At first glance, one might mistake them for an ordinary sword and dagger, not the weapons that belong to a man like Duncan, the leader of the Grey Wardens. A good man, he had led the Grey Wardens alongside Cailan at Ostagar. A good man, he had been betrayed by that coward Loghain and left to fight the Darkspawn alone. It had never sat well with Aedan that they never found Duncan's body when he and Alistair returned to Ostagar, that they couldn't give him the funeral they had given Cailan. All they had found were Duncan's weapons, lodged in the heart of an Ogre, which tried to kill them when a Genlock Emissary raised it to stop the Wardens.

Aedan remembered the fight clearly. Although dead, the reanimated Ogre had been quick, bowling Alistair over and grabbing Aedan in its stench ridden claws. It had begun to squeeze him, the breath forced from his lungs. Wynne's magic had been the only thing that had kept him from blacking out, but it helped. It had given Aedan enough time to grab the dagger sticking from the Ogre's chest, and allowed him to bring it swiftly to the fiend's head. The blade pierced the eye of the Ogre and with all his remaining strength Aedan pushed the blade into its rotten head until the hilt of the dagger stopped him. The Ogre released his grip and fell, truly dead this time. He winced at the memory of the cracked ribs the Ogre had left him with.

As the candlelight flicked across the bright metal, Aedan reached for the dagger's sibling blade. Contrary to how it looked, the longsword wasn't heavy. It had a good weight to it certainly, but the sword was finely balanced. It was designed to quickly cut the enemy without the user getting bogged down. The balance also meant that the wielder could effectively use another blade if needs be, by no means slowing them down. He tested the sword, using the same moves his father Bryce had taught him, the same moves he was told to use if using an unfamiliar weapon, to get a feel for it, where the weight would take him, if he should compensate for any flaws in the design. As the blade cut the air, Aedan knew this was it good blade, it would serve whoever used it well, but it would not be him. With the blade in hand, he spun, decapitating an imaginary foe, at the same time moving to block the blow of the enemy's non-existent assailant. With the shadows defeated for the time being, Aedan turned, and saw Fergus standing in the doorway.

"You're putting too much weight on your right foot again little brother." Fergus chuckled, knowing Aedan was one of the best swordsmen in the country, but as an older brother he had the sole right to tease him.

Aedan cocked an eyebrow and placed the sword on the oiled cloth, gently wrapping the sword and dagger in the waterproof material. His reply was swift, "At least I know how to use a sword properly, Fergus, unlike you. You barely know where the pommel is."

"What? You mean there's more then putting the pointy end in the other guy? I am shocked and dismayed, my whole world has been turned upside down by this revelation!" Aedan could practically taste the sarcasm and rolled his eyes.

"When are you leaving?" Fergus' tone had changed, to the same tone he had used since they returned to Highever, tinged with concern for Aedan, but always held in check. Aedan knew his brother meant well, but he needn't had worried. He hadn't told Fergus about his plan, but Alistair's summons did worry the Grey Warden. It might delay his plan and time was a luxury he did not have.

Aedan turned around and shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not quite sure, probably first thing in the morning or when I feel like going, whichever comes first. I'm making this up as I go along, Fergus. When have you ever known me to plan anything more then a hour or so ahead?" He laughed, attempting to put the Teyrn at ease, and it worked.

"I'm glad some things never change then. If you have some time open in your busy schedule, you can help me with a very important task. I found a bottle of father's whiskey, and with the repairs to the castle almost done, I think we should have a few drinks to honour the old place. And I won't take no for an answer! Finish packing, I'll be down in the study." He laughed as he walked down the corridor.

Aedan packed Duncan's weapons with the rest of his equipment, with all the respect he could offer his mentor. He reached for his own weapons, the longsword known as the Keening Blade, its frosty sheen betraying its power, and yet when he picked it up, he felt no cold or chill from the blade. The battle against the demon who possessed it had been long and hard, but it was worth it, knowing the demon could no longer harm anyone with its twisted schemes.

As he sheathed the sword, he turned to the Elven axe, the Veshialle. Supposedly once owned by the Dalish Elf Rajmael, he had thrown it at the Humans who were chasing him before he threw himself off a nearby cliff, denying them that last victory. How it ended up in the possession of Bodahn Feddic, Aedan had no idea, but it was a good weapon, the weight perfect for fighting armoured opponents, and the axe head itself was razor sharp. The curve of the axe head also meant it was good for catching an enemy' weapon or shield and throwing them off-guard, giving Aedan the chance to finish them off. He hefted the axe in his left hand and satisfied with it, placed it back on his bed and left the room, to join his brother for a few drinks and to perhaps forget his troubles, at least for the time being.

It had taken him a week to travel to Denerim and Aedan had hoped he could sneak into the city unnoticed, unfortunately though the Hero of Ferelden was too easily recognised, and in the end a group of off-duty guardsmen offered to escort him to the palace, making sure the people didn't crowd the Warden. Though he was loathe to do so, he accepted, feeling guilty that he was taking up their free time. The captain leading the men saw the discomfort on Aedan's face and told him they were on their way back to the palace anyway. With the Pearl still closed for repairs and many of the taverns running low on stock, there wasn't much to do in the city anyway, he had explained to Aedan, and given the alternative of spending time with their families, they chose to get some work done, the captain laughing at that last comment.

As they walked to the palace, the guards had engaged in conversation with Aedan, many of them having fought with him during the charge on the Darkspawn. They all spoke of the amazement they had of seeing him and his companions in action, like how Alistair had used his shield to throw that Hurlock over his shoulder, spinning around and pinning the Darkspawn's head to the ground, or the Orlesian bard dodging the Ogre's clumsy attacks, before leaping on it's back and firing an arrow into to the back of it's misshapen head. One guardsmen had thanked Aedan, he had been trapped in an alley, his leg badly wounded thanks to a Darkspawn arrow. He thought he was going to die, hacked to death by three Hurlocks, only to see Aedan leap into the fray, as if from nowhere. He had cut off the arm of the lead Hurlock with the first sweep of his axe, the sword following it taking the fiend's head. In the same motion Aedan had thrown the axe, hitting the second Hurlock square in the chest, killing it outright. Without stopping the Warden intercepted the last Hurlocks greatsword, his own blade stopping it from killing the wounded guardsman. He heaved, his weight behind the blade and pushed the Hurlock away. It stumbled and gave Aedan the opening he needed. He ran forward, his fist raised and connected with the Darkspawn's face, crushing most of the right side of its hideous face. It collapsed and reached for its weapon, but stopped when Aedan brought the icy sword down on its head, killing it. In truth every thing happened in less then a few seconds, but to the guardsman it seemed like an eternity. He remembered Aedan making sure he was alright, and bandaging his wound, making sure some soldiers stayed with him while another found a Mage.

"You probably don't remember that my lord, but thank you anyway." The guardsman was barely a man, most likely a boy conscripted by Loghain to rebuild the army he left to die. He fell back in line, content to say his piece to the one who saved his life and many others that day.

Aedan was surprised, both that the man thanked him and that he still lived. He stopped him and said, "I remember, you were near the Arl of Denerim's estate, your company had set up a barricade to stop the Darkspawn on one of the bridges. I should be the one thanking you. It was by your efforts we were able to get to Fort Drakon. Thank you, for your bravery and the defence of the bridge." The guardsman beamed that the Warden remembered him, perhaps forgetting, or choosing to forget that most of his company had died defending that bridge. Aedan had lied to him, there were other bridges and alternate ways to get to Fort Drakon, but he couldn't tell him, it had simply the bridge they had come across first. _Better to have the lie and be at peace, then the pain of the truth. Let him think his friends didn't die in vain._

When they reached the palace the guardsmen bade him farewell and were about to go to their barracks when Aedan called the captain and threw a bag of coins to him. "Drinks are on me, to thank you and your men for the escort" _And to drown your sorrows. _The guardsmen cheered, thanking the Warden, the thought of some decent mead almost making up for the Pearl still being closed.

He stared at the palace gates, they were unadorned, simply thick planks of Oak, held together by large bands of steel. Simple, unassuming and utterly effective. The doors still bore the scars of Darkspawn axes, Ogre fists and the hellish magic of Darkspawn Emissaries. He still wondered why the door hadn't collapsed or shattered due to all the damage it had taken, but he didn't really care. The doors, like the city, still stood and that was all that mattered. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Aedan started up the steps.

The antechamber had only a couple of royal guardsmen, and as before, they were led by Ser Cauthrien. Once Loghain's most trusted lieutenant, Cauthrien had turned against him as his actions began to chafe against her own sense of honour. But to Cauthrien, loyalty was something not easily discarded, even as Aedan and Alistair were on their way to confront Loghain, Ser Cauthrien begged them to spare her lord, in reference of all the good he had done against the Orlesians and for their freedom. She tried to save Loghain's life, even though she knew he was beyond redemption. When Loghain's body was cremated there were only two mourners, his daughter Anora and Ser Cauthrien. They were the only ones who remembered who the Hero of River Dane had been before, choosing the man, over the monster he had become. And yet, Ser Cauthrien could not bring herself to hate the men who had executed Loghain, they had done for a year what Loghain should have done straight away, fighting the Blight, preserving King Maric's legacy better then her former lord. Though she had only met King Maric on a handful of occasions, she could tell Alistair was much like his father, though he was loathe to admit it. He had the same relaxed attitude, an ability to make people feel at ease with him, and strangely enough the same obsession with cheese Maric had. Alistair had turned out to be a more then capable ruler, learning much of what a King's duties were relatively quickly.

His fellow Warden, now known as the Hero of Ferelden was much more difficult to form any idea about. Soon after the battle in Denerim, he had left with Teyrn Cousland to reclaim their home from Howe's troops and had not returned to the city since. To her everlasting shame, Ser Cauthrien had learned what Loghain had allowed Howe to do, to clear anyone who might oppose him, including the near annihilation of the Cousland family. She was not surprised when Aedan Cousland had chosen to execute Loghain, of all those who had been in the Landsmeet chamber that day that had grievances against the Teyrn, he alone had the right to execute him, as the temporary Teyrn of Highever, the son of a murdered family, one of the last surviving Grey Wardens, and as a witness to Loghain's crimes. She tried to call out, to beg for mercy, but she knew he would not listen, he had every right not to. At least he had been merciful and made it a clean execution. But there was something about him, not the fact that he had stopped the Blight, slaying the Archdemon in the process, that stuck with her. There was a quality to him that for several weeks tormented Cauthrien as she tried to decide what it was. It was then the chamber doors open and the Warden walked through them, and as she looked at him, she suddenly realised what it was. Aedan Cousland was Loghain Mac Tir, or at least the man Loghain should have been if paranoia and hatred had not consumed him. He had the same power, strength, the same force of will, but it hadn't been tainted by the horrors he had endured. Ser Cauthrien would never like the Warden, not for his part in the death of her lord, but she could respect him.

Ser Cauthrien walked towards Aedan and offered a salute, "Warden, I was ordered by King Alistair to make sure you were shown to you chambers, he felt that why he had summoned you could wait until you were rested." He stared back, studying her, before giving his response.

"That won't be necessary, if he summoned me as he did, it's important, and I'd rather get it out of the way." His voice carried the same authority as it did the last time he was in the throne room.

"Very well my lord, open the doors." Before the sentence had been finished two of the guardsmen had left their posts, reaching the twin doors leading to the throne room and opening it as Aedan passed through.

It was time to get some answers.

Alistair had been thinking about ordering lunch when the throne room doors opened and a very familiar figure walked through. _Guess lunch is out of the question then. _The King stood and walked to greet his friend, ready to offer a joke, but the look on Aedan's face made him realise it would be a bad idea.

"Well, I'm glad to see the messenger had gotten through, though I'm guessing you want to get this over and done with. Very well." He dismissed the Cauthrien and the guards, instructing the nearest guard to bring the guests to the throne room.

The King walked away from Aedan, moving towards a small table with a couple of goblets and a jug of wine. He poured a goblet for himself and offered Aedan the second, only to see the Warden raise his hand, a clear sign he wanted to get whatever this summons was out of the way. Alistair drained the goblet and poured another.

"You've been having nightmares?" It wasn't a question, Alistair knew full well that if he was having nightmares then so was Aedan.

He knew that as soon as a person drank from that chalice during the Joining, tasting the Darkspawn blood it contained they were forever linked to the Darkspawn. The Joining, the ceremony which made them Grey Wardens was supposed to make them immune to the Darkspawn taint, it allowed them to track the beasts, and to kill Archdemons, all this came at a price though. For all the strength and power Grey Wardens had, their lives were brutally short, either dying in the Joining, the taint killing a person outright, in battle against the Darkspawn, and of course, if a Blight occurred, then only a Grey Warden could slay the Archdemon, which utterly destroys the Grey Warden. If anyone but a Warden slew the corrupted dragon, the essence of the dragon would travel to the nearest Darkspawn, eventually transforming its body into a new Archdemon. But, if a Grey Warden landed that final blow, the essence of the beast would be drawn into their body, forever killing it, but at the cost of the soul of the Grey Warden. And yet, Aedan had slain the Archdemon, and still lived. How, Alistair did not know, all he knew was Aedan and Morrigan did some sort of ritual, and with the Witch gone, Aedan would never tell Alistair the details.

Even if a Grey Warden survived all those other trials, old age would never affect them. Although they were immune to the taint, the blood they drank would eventually start to kill them. The oldest Grey Wardens, would often only live about thirty years after their Joining. The nightmares they suffered would become worse as the taint spread through their bodies. When that happened, they would travel to the Deep Roads to perform the Calling, a final chance to protect the world, by killing as many Darkspawn as they could, a final gift to those they were sworn to protect. All Aedan had bought for himself was time, nothing else.

Alistair turned around, asking the question again, and Aedan nodded. His mind was filled with the Darkspawn, and the horrors they visited on a farmstead. The bodies hang from the roof of the main building, the animals slaughtered, the children…

He shook his head of the image, "The Archdemon is dead, why haven't the Darkspawn retreated to the Deep Roads? Why are they heading to Amaranthine?" He had a dozen of other questions but a voice behind him put pay to them.

"We don't know, and that's why we want you to find out." He spun around, and saw an petite Elven woman, he guessed in her late forties, the staff she carried clearly marked her as a Mage. From her accent she was Orlesian, possibly from Val Royeaux given how thick it was. Her eyes were a pale blue, almost as if she was blind. Her heart shaped face was framed by curls of light brown hair. Her very appearance was designed to put others at ease, to lull them into complacency before she blasted them with a sorcerous blast. With her stood a young woman, Human, clad in a dark red suit of heavy chain mail, the style unmistakeably Ferelden. She wore a helmet much like a Griffon's Helm, the face open, with wings reaching back. Aedan couldn't make out much of the warrior's face, she stood in the shadow, keeping a respectful distance from the Mage and the two men.

"If you're quite finished deciding if I am a threat or not, allow me to introduce myself. I am Savine, the Warden Commander of Orlais, and you must be Aedan Cousland. A pleasure to meet you." She bowed slightly, both to the King and to the Warden.

Aedan returned the bow, as he had been taught as a child, "The pleasure is mine, my lady." The response automatic, but sincere. She may have been a Grey Warden, but she was also an Orlesian in a land which still bore a dislike to the empire which had tried to enslave it for over a century, he would not add to that discomfort. But he would not play any games either.

"Why would a Commander of the Grey come to Ferelden herself, or are you worried the Ferelden people are unable to look after themselves?" He had heard the rumours that Orlais had sent a dozen Wardens to Vigil's Keep, the Wardens of Ferelden's new base of operations. An idea that had not sat well with many people it seemed.

The Elf knew the young man suspected something, and having been around nobles for long enough, she could see he had no time for games, a refreshing change for Savine given the usual intrigue in the Orlesian Court. "We have full faith in Ferelden's ability to fight the Darkspawn, after all with only three Grey Wardens in the land, you were able to defeat the Blight before it truly began. No, we are worried about the Darkspawn and why they haven't gone back to the Deep Roads. We will help however we can but we cannot do this ourselves. We must find out what the Darkspawn are doing in Amaranthine."

Her voice was soft, and in a way, reminded Aedan of Leliana, the same mannerisms, the same inflections as they spoke. He wondered how she was doing, had her expedition to the Deep Roads encountered any trouble? He hoped his friend was alright, though knowing her, she was loving every minute of it.

Aedan crossed his arms, his patience beginning to wear thin, he wanted this to end, "So what has this got to do with me?"

Savine looked at the Warden and decided he deserved the truth, said "We want you to find out why."

He was shocked, to say the least. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, first amongst them was his plan, he had spent too much time thinking it through to just abandon it. "Why me?" His tone became sterner. "I've done my duty to the Wardens, so why me?"

Alistair looked away and poured himself another drink. _This, this was a very bad idea. _He began to look around the throne room, trying to find somewhere he could duck for cover if things turned ugly.

"Because you are a native Ferelden, you are a hero to the people, you stopped the Blight. The people will respect you, and will, hopefully, help you in Amaranthine. The First Warden in Weisshaupt felt that given Ferelden and Orlais' past history sending an Orlesian as a Commander of the Grey would be detrimental to any effort to clear the Darkspawn from the surface. It would also be seen as an attempt by Orlais to influence Ferelden politics. That's why you have been chosen, the people trust you and you will be able to work unimpeded. You have been chosen to be the Warden Commander of Fereldan, the first true Commander in nearly two Ages."

_Right, so behind the throne, that should give me plenty of protection. _Alistair drained the goblet and waited for Aedan's response.

For several moment the air hung heavily as Aedan thought things over. At first he had believed his plan would be at risk, every day he could not enact it was another day the chances of it failing grew. But he realised that Amaranthine was a port town, in fact it was the second busiest in the country and excellent places for news and rumours from other lands. And in an instant his plan was set, a smile forming on his face.

"When do I leave?" The devilish grin scared Alistair, causing him to reach for the last of the wine.

The sun had begun to rise when Aedan woke Mhairi from her slumber. He had kept watch all night, and yet he was not tired, in fact he seemed to have a boundless energy. The rain had nearly stopped, making their journey through the valley less troublesome, though it still took them several hours longer then they had hoped, the rain washing away part of the road and forcing them to take a longer route through the forest.

Night had fallen by the time they had reached Vigil's Keep. The rain had begun to pelt them again, the drops so heavy it had stung their skin. Something was wrong, and it wasn't the weather. They had been in view of the Keep for at least an hour, and yet there was no one to greet them, even with the weather as horrendous as it was. It was as they reached the gatehouse, that a very familiar and extremely unwelcome feeling washed over Aedan. He scanned the area and soon saw them, a trio of Genlocks chasing a lone man, who badly injured and utterly terrified.

Vigil's Keep was under attack by the Darkspawn and for the time being, Aedan and Mhairi were on their own. Aedan drew the Keening Blade and the Veshialle, and bellowed a warcry that caught the Darkspawn off guard.

The new Warden Commander of Ferelden charged into battle.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Hopes and Dreams"

She woke up to the sunshine peering into the room through the small window. She smiled and reached over and disappointed, found she was alone. _So, 'twas only a dream then. _It was then she heard the sound of wood being chopped breaking the silence of the morning. _Or perhaps not. _She rose from her bed and dressed in a simple gown and followed the sound to its source. As the woman walked through the cabin, she noticed the work that had gone into building the home, it was spacious and comfortable, he had seen to that. It was warm in winter and cool in the summer. _A perfect place to raise a family._ Her hand touched the smooth wood of the wall and let it trail behind her as she walked towards the door. Light flooded the cabin as she opened the door.

She found the source of the noise, and smiled. The pair were near a large woodpile, chopping the rough blocks for the coming winter months. The child sat on a large stone watching the man raise the axe above his head and brought it down on the chunk of Oak, splitting it in half. Standing back, she listened to them for a few moments.

"…..And remember, Pup, to always to place the axe on the exact spot you want to hit before you lift it. Always keep an eye for any knots in the wood, you hit one of them you can damage the axe." His voice was gentle, as it always was, patient, talking to the child, not down to him.

The child, she took a moment to study him. He was six years old, a shock of thick black hair, messy like his father's had been. His eyes golden like hers, but with a slight green tint to them. He was playful and mischievous, like his father, the two so alike. She tried to focus more on the other details of his face but was suddenly distracted by the man's voice.

"Now, why don't you go in and get some breakfast, and don't forget to tell your mother that its rude to stare." He rubbed the boy's head, sending the child on his way. The boy looked at her and smiled, running up and hugged her, his laughter music to her ears. The man threw the last of the wood on the pile and planted the axe in the stump. He picked up the shirt he had left on the ground, put it on and turned.

His hair was shorter then she remembered, but everything else about him was the same, his emerald eyes had the same shine, the devilish grin he always had for her still working its charm on her, even after all this time. Her Grey Warden was here. She walked towards her lover. He took her in his arms and drew her close. She looked up to him and moved to kiss him, their lips almost touching….

Morrigan awoke in the bed, alone, surrounded by darkness. It had been the same dream that had haunted her mind for the last month. Even now he still plagued her, and perhaps she deserved it. Four months since she had left him, and yet the pain of doing so was just as strong as it was then. The Witch looked around the cottage she now called home. It had long since been abandoned by its previous owners, but luckily it had been sturdily built meaning any repairs Morrigan had to do were minor or in some cases, she had be able to ignore them completely. The stone walls kept her safe from the elements but it still felt cold to the touch, most likely due to the surrounding marsh. The Nahashin Marshes had done well to protect her so far, few venturing near its watery paths. In a way, they reminded her of the Korcari Wilds, where her mother Flemeth raised her and where she met him…

"Stop it girl! He is gone from your life now, 'tis foolish to keeping thinking of him!" Perhaps saying it out loud would have broken her free of her thoughts of him. Instead, it conjured more memories of him and their time together. There was no point in trying to sleep again, she was wide awake now, and hungry. _At least the nausea is gone, now all I have to worry about is eating for two, do all mothers go through this? Or is it because I carry this child?_ Since the early morning sickness had finished Morrigan had felt more energetic, she had also noticed that her powers had increased as well, though she wasn't certain if it was to do with the child growing inside her or a normal side effect of being a pregnant mage.

Seeing the fire across the room was dying down, Morrigan left her bed and walked over to the chair that always sat by the fireplace. She looked down to the slight bump that had started to form, the loose gown she wore hiding it slightly, and smiled. Her Grey Warden had given her much in their time together, but this was the greatest gift either of them could offer each other. Morrigan had given her Warden life, and he had given her something truly worth preserving. She sat down by the fire and stoked the embers, whispering an incantation to grant them more heat before she placed another log on them. As the fire grew, the Witch retrieved a large leather bound book from its hiding place, and as she had done every night since he brought it to her, Morrigan studied Flemeth's grimoire, though the words written in there meant nothing to her, the dream still fresh in her mind. Realising she would not learn anything tonight, Morrigan gently clasped the book's bronze lock and returned to the fire. The air in the cottage still felt chilled, and yet, she welcomed it, bringing back memories of her first meeting with her Warden.

'_Tis a curious thing, these four have wandered into the Wilds alone, and are almost willingly seeking Darkspawn. Either they are fools, or they are searching for something, perhaps they are both. _The raven watched them with a strange curiosity, its golden eyes betraying the human intelligence behind them. The four men trudging through the swamp were covered in Darkspawn blood, having recently slaughtered a band of the creatures just a moment ago, the blood still trailing down their armour. The raven studied them closely, the leader a blond man, perhaps in his early twenties, his shield and sword fixed into their placing on his back as he studied the surrounding area. With him stood an older man, balding, the cloth he had been using to clean the two handed sword so soaked with Darkspawn blood that it had left more streaks then it cleaned. In the end he had given up and clasped the sword onto his back and turned to the blond. She couldn't quite tell what was being said, but from the way he acted the older man was nervous, gesturing to the leader to the path they had just travelled.

A third man joined the discussion, dressed in studded leather armour, his skin darker then the others, more weather worn, a short mess of dark hair on his head, a bow in his hand. He appeared to be siding with the leader. _I should have become an owl, or a fox, better to hear what they were saying. I could move closer, but the fools might become distracted. _It was then the raven turned her attention to the last man, moving through the Darkspawn corpses, the heavy blade in his hand occasionally brought down on a Darkspawn, ensuring the creatures were actually dead. From time to time, he would take a glass vial from his backpack and fill it with blood from the larger Darkspawn. _Ah, so they are Grey Wardens, or at least they soon will be. _This man, however, was different from the others he travelled with. While the others were excellent fighters, he was something else, his sword and dagger flashed like lightning as he cut down Darkspawn. More then once, he had feigned a miss or a stumble, luring one of the tainted creatures to attack him, only to dodge the falling blade at the last second, disarming his assailant and decapitating it in one motion. There was something to him, almost an animal cunning, that made Morrigan realise that this man was far more formidable then the other men he travelled with.

It was then he turned and looked in her direction….no….directly at her! Could he sense her? It was impossible! Morrigan always made sure she studied each animal extensively, learning to mimic how it moved, how it acted, essentially becoming the animal. There was no way he could know she was anything more then a simple raven. And yet, there he was, staring at her, his green eyes shining even through the heavy helmet he wore. After a moment, he went back to completing his task, and rejoined the other Wardens, continuing their journey towards the ruined tower. _Intriguing, that one is definitely unlike the others, 'twould be best to be careful with him._ The raven spread her iridescent wings and leapt into the air, following the small group to the end of their journey.

The tower was ancient, the Griffon seal of the Grey Wardens had marked it as one of their many watch posts. It had once been grand and sturdy, proof against the Darkspawn, but it could never contend with the Korcari Wilds. Now, it was a skeleton, open to the world, long since picked clean by scavengers and Darkspawn, the rafters providing a perfect vantage point for the Witch. The Griffon seal lay broken on the ground, not by the Darkspawn, but by vines and weeds, the sable field of the seal now tinged with moss and age. It had been the base for the Darkspawn in the area, who had been slain by the four Grey Wardens. The trio Morrigan had watched arguing had spread out, watching for any lingering Darkspawn and any potential ambushes. But again, it was the lone man who drew her attention. He walked towards a wooden chest, partially buried by rubble. The warrior removed his helmet, his black hair tumbling away, the tattoo on his right cheek clear to see, even with the hair falling around it, the marking fascinating Morrigan. _'Twould explain his skill, to have earned a mark like that he must have survived some sort of trial. _He appeared to be the same age as the blond warrior, his skin was paler, though it was hard to tell with the dirt and blood that streaked his face, the helmet offering little protection in that respect. His chin and jaw were covered by several days worth of stubble, completing his rugged appearance. _Even so, he is quite handsome. I will have to watch him._

As he approached the chest, the warrior dropped to one knee, and withdrew a small key from within his armour and slid it into the chest's ornate lock. As he turned it, a brief flash of light signalling the end of the spell that had protected the chest for so long. The warrior removed the lid and peered into the chest, and suddenly turned to his companions, shouting to the blond man that the treaties were not here. _Ah, now it makes sense. _Confused, the blond ran over and looked into the chest, the bowman and cowardly warrior following him. Not quite comprehending what was obviously in front of him, the blond lifted the empty chest, looking under it, turning it upside down and shaking it, believing whatever it was they had been sent to find would magically appear as if from nowhere. The bowman had taken to tapping the sides of the chest, presumably searching for secret compartments while the balding coward was suggesting they leave before more Darkspawn arrived. _Fools. _The marked warrior had left the others to their antics, instead intent on searching the area for some clue as to what happened. Morrigan doubted he would find anything, but deciding not to take that chance, she flew to the ground and hid behind a pillar, the raven's feathers falling away as the Witch reverted to her human form. The time for watching these wanderers was over, now she needed answers.

"Well, well, what have we here? Are you a vulture , I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these Darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?" The marked warrior was the first to notice her, walking forward to meet her, but kept his distance, the others slowly realising they were not alone.

It was the marked warrior who replied first, "We are neither, the Grey Wardens once owned this tower". His voice was respectful, but the Witch could see he was wary of her, trying to decide what to make of her.

"'Tis a tower no longer, the Wilds have seen to that." As she spoke, Morrigan had walked passed the four, only stopping on an embankment overlooking the men.

The blond moved next to the marked warrior, "Careful, she looks Chasind, that means others might be nearby." _This one is truly a fool, would he even know a true Chasind if he came across one?_

Her tone mocking, "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" Morrigan raised her arms, and shook them, emphasizing the swooping.

Outmanoeuvred the blond barely managed a "Swooping is **bad**." His body tensed, as if he had decided to attack. _The fool cannot win, so he tries to threaten me, 'tis a wonder he survived this long._

By now the bowman and the coward had joined in, accusing Morrigan of being a Witch of the Wilds. Choosing to ignore them and the blond, she turned her attention to the marked warrior who had remained silent while his companions tried and failed to verbally spar with her. Either he was still forming an opinion about her or he was waiting for her to make the first move, his green eyes stared intently at her and that unsettled her more then the others and their posturing. Morrigan had to do something.

"You there, handsome lad, let us be civilised. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine." It was not much but it would have to do.

He still stared at her, and smiled slightly, his mind made up. Bowing slightly, much to the surprise of the others and to Morrigan, the marked warrior answered. "My name is Aedan, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

It was the sudden feeling in her abdomen that brought Morrigan back to the present. She had no idea what this was but somehow she knew it was something amazing. Gliding her hand over the bump, she smiled and whispered. "I have many tales for you about your father. But they must wait for a time." With that the Witch rose and went back to the ancient grimoire, intent on studying it for a way to protect herself and her unborn child. There was still much left to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"A New Day, A New Pain"

He stood in the courtyard, tiredness and a dozen minor injuries aching through him. The sun was slowly rising over Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep, showing him more death and loss with each passing second. The corpses of Human soldiers and Darkspawn were strewn across the Keep, some still looking as through they were locked in combat. The attack on the Vigil had been defeated, the Darkspawn driven off, but the cost had been high, many of those who had defended the Vigil were dead, including most of the senior soldiers. Thankfully, the main part of Amaranthine's army had not been here, most of the soldiers were either patrolling the Arling, or they were barracked in the city of Amaranthine. The Keep was saved, but until reinforcements could be recalled, she would be undermanned, and alone.

The Vigil. He looked around at the new home of the Grey Wardens. Local legend had said the Keep had been built by the old Avvar tribes to watch for Tevinter raids, and that Tevinter skeletons had formed the foundation, a warning to those who would invade these lands. Though the Avvar were long since gone from Ferelden, Vigil's Keep had kept its watch over the surrounding lands, eventually passing into the hands of the Howe family. A shiver ran up his back at the thought of that name, he had once respected it like many in this land, it had been a byword for honour and duty. Now, thanks to the actions of one man, that name had been ruined, all the deeds that people had remembered were all forgotten. Once, the name Howe was respected, now, it was reviled and spat upon. In a way, the Vigil reminded him of that name, once it stood proud, its walls strong, its defences unrivalled by most of the fortresses in Ferelden. Now, it looked broken, the walls crumbling and torn apart. Neglect and jealousy had let it fall into disrepair. It was another thing ruined by Rendon Howe, and another thing for him to fix, but for the time being, it would have to wait, there was much to do.

With the stench of blood and smoke still in the air, Aedan Cousland returned to his task, many had died, and each deserved a proper Andrastean funeral. He owed them that much. Weary, he turned the rosewood ring on his finger and returned to work.

The events of the night ran through his head as he helped a young soldier load the bodies of a group of archers onto a cart. From what he had heard from the survivors, the Darkspawn had just appeared in the middle of the Keep, the defenders had almost been overwhelmed before they realised what had happened. The Orlesian Grey Wardens had managed to mount a defence, preventing a complete rout. By all accounts they were everywhere, inspiring the survivors and driving the Darkspawn back, swords and magic destroying their enemies. However, for all they had done, none of the Grey Wardens were still at the Vigil, supposedly the Darkspawn captured them and took them with them when they retreated. _But why? Darkspawn rarely take prisoners, and never Grey Wardens. The fiends usually kill Wardens on sight, so why capture them? _It was one of the many things about the previous night that disturbed him, but nothing more so then the leader of the Darkspawn. It had **talked **to him, ordering its fellows to capture him. It's attempt failed and it had died for it's efforts, but this changed things. With the death of the Archdemon, the Darkspawn were supposed to retreat back to the Deep Roads and yet they had just organised a massive raid against a heavily fortified keep, willingly hunted and captured Grey Wardens and now this talking Darkspawn. All these facts pointed towards something changing in the Darkspawn, and that terrified the Commander. Shaking his head, Aedan looked at the bloody sheet at his feet and lifted it onto the cart. This wasn't the first body he had loaded today, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. _No rest for the wicked._

He kept his eyes closed, knowing that if he opened them he'd either throw up or he'd fall off the bed. The pain in his head felt like a High Dragon went on a rampage in his brain, making its nest between his ears. _What in the Maker's name was I drinking last night? Those dreams were so strange. Hehe, fighting Darkspawn and meeting the King and to top it off I became a Grey Warden. Whatever I was drinking, I'm getting some more of it._ Finally deciding to open his eyes, Anders saw a mass of red hair and found his nose being assaulted by the smell of a recently released belch. As his eyes focussed the mage saw a shape sitting at a table, devouring a plate of cold meat and bread. It took Anders a minute to realise that the Dwarf sitting at the table had been in his dream, it took him another minute to realise that it wasn't a dream and that he had in fact been fighting Darkspawn the night before and had ended up becoming a Grey Warden.

All Anders managed before falling back onto the bed was "Ah crap!". Oghren looked at him and laughed, bits of bread and meat spilling onto his beard.

Walking over to the mage, Oghren sat on the stool beside him and offered him a mug of ale. "Thought you were going to stay asleep all day Sparkle-fingers. Still don't know why the Commander conscripted you, but its his decision, I was hoping your head'd explode."

"Hey, your face is being attacked by some animal…. Oh wait, its just your beard." Anders looked at the mug being offered and took it, downing the contents in one go. "Thanks."

He stopped for a moment and thought back to what happened the previous night, the Templars who escorting him back to the Circle were killed by the Darkspawn, and he had been forced to fight them by himself. A man in plate armour had burst into the room as Anders had killed the last one, a woman in heavy chain mail following him. He had questioned Anders about what happened and why there were dead Templars nearby. The man had guessed he was an apostate, a term Anders didn't like but it was true enough, and it had surprised him when the warrior had told him to get away, if anyone asked, he could say he found a dead mage. He had gotten as far as the gates when he realised there were still people in the Keep, and even though those two looked like they could fight, they could be on their own. Fighting his own survival instinct, Anders turned back and ran back towards the keep.

After that, things got a little blurry, he had managed to make his way to the top of the Vigil where the two warriors he had met before found him, a Dwarf who reeked of spirits and blood following them. There was a talking Darkspawn… _Was that right? Was it talking? Maker, the Joining really does something to you! _They had fought it and killed it, rescuing Varel, the Seneschal of the Keep, in the process. _What happened then? Did the King arrive? Yes! The King arrived with a bodyguard made up of Templars, they tried to arrest me. And the Warden conscripted me, why would he do that? Wait… Something isn't right here. _

Perplexed, Anders looked at the Dwarf and asked, "Oghren, is it? What happened to the woman who fought with the Warden? Didn't she do the Joining? Where is she?"

Before Oghren could answer, Anders guessed what had happened by the look on the Dwarf's face. "She died, the Darkspawn blood killed her. The Commander's taken her body to one of your funeral rites. Bit of a waste, the girl could fight too."

As Oghren and Anders drank to Mhairi, Aedan had finished clearing the dead from the courtyard and joined Varel at the pyre where a Chantry priest was offering prayers for the soldiers. Nearby the Darkspawn dead were thrown into a pit and burned. _Its more then they deserve, but we can't let the taint spread. Better to burn the bodies then let them infect the land. _

It was Varel who broke the silence, the last of the Keep's soldier burning on their pyre. "My lord, I'm sorry, but the lords and ladies of Amaranthine will soon be arriving to swear fealty to you. There are some things that need to be taken care of."

"As I said before, I am not an Arl." Aedan's voice sounded hollow, weariness setting in.

"Perhaps, but as the Commander of the Grey, and with Amaranthine now belonging to the Grey Wardens, one could consider you our Arl. I'm sorry my lord, but what about Mhairi, will she not be added to the pyre?" Varel nodded towards a lone body, a winged helmet resting on the wrapped bundle.

Sighing, Aedan walked to the bundle and knelt beside it, "No, she was a Grey Warden, she will get a Wardens funeral". With that, the Commander lifted her body and took Mhairi on her last journey.

The pine logs were arranged to burn quickly and fiercely, soaked in oil to increase the heat, a body placed on there would be ashes in less then an hour, a final peace for the dead. He stood alone, a torch nearby. He wasn't sure what a true Warden's funeral was, he had been a Warden himself for a little under two years. In truth he knew very little about the Grey Wardens. _Perhaps there is no such thing, Wardens are destined to die in battle, or perhaps its just a normal funeral for those who fail the Joining. _Feeling he had to say something, all that came to his mind were the words said during the Joining, Aedan changed them slightly to the situation.

"You have left us, sister. You have left us and journeyed into the shadows, while we remain vigilant. We will carry on our duty, as you have done. You have perished, but know your sacrifice will not be forgotten. One day, we shall join you too." Bowing his head, Aedan whispered a prayer and threw the torch onto the pyre. _Maker's peace, Mhairi, I am sorry you had to suffer this._

As he walked back to the Keep, Aedan noticed two figures walking towards him, the Mage he had met the previous night, and a Dwarf he knew very well.

"Oghren, I see you managed to avoid doing some proper work, again. Enjoy your rest did we?" It was light hearted, enough had happened in the last few hours and he was sure the Dwarf was in no mood for being serious.

The Dwarf shrugged, and looked at the Commander, "Hey, I was killing Darkspawn while you and your Mabari were still pups. I just spent the day guarding the Keep's ale supply."

The Mage interjected, "Luckily there's still some ale left. And by the way, Commander, thank you for last night. I'm sure those Templars would have found a tree and strung me up from it. Oh and I don't know if I introduced myself, what with all the Darkspawn running around, I'm Anders." Even before he had finished saying it, he had offered his hand to the Commander.

Aedan smiled and took the hand, the grip was firm. "Call me Aedan, my name isn't Commander. Welcome to the Grey Wardens."

"Just one thing, why did you conscript me? I don't mind becoming a Grey Warden, but I'd just like to know." Anders was bemused, not quite sure of what to make of the Warden.

"Fair enough, I gave you a chance to leave, but you came back because you wanted to help people. You might not be a Circle mage, but you are powerful, and that will help against the Darkspawn. And mainly because I don't like the Chantry, and the look on that Templar's face was worth it. People deserve their freedom, whatever quirk of birth they may have should not dictate their entire lives. If you can do more good here, that's great, but if you want to leave, you have that choice." The Commander looked at the Mage, waiting for his response.

He didn't have to wait long, Anders smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "Well, its not perfect, but its better then being trapped in the Circle. I might like being a Grey Warden. But thank you again."

_At least I'm no longer the new guy._

The Commander nodded, and continued walking towards the Vigil. "Well, you want to stand around there all day, or do you want to get some work done? I could do with a drink before I meet those nobles."

Aedan looked at Vigil's Keep, duty, both to the Grey Wardens and to Amaranthine, awaiting him. As he stared at the crumbling Keep, he kept turning the rosewood ring on his finger.

There was still much for him to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Memories and Dreams"

"So, how did you become a shapeshifter?" The chill in the air frosted the words as they left his lips. He didn't look at Morrigan as he asked the question, instead his eyes scanned the tree line for signs of danger. The Brecillian Forest lay before them and though the night was quiet, Aedan had heard enough of the legends and tales about the forest as a child to be more then a little wary of the silence. The boy in him still remembered the tales Nan had told him of spirits, and trees that thirsted for human blood and of the werewolves that were said to hunt in the forest. Though he knew better then to be scared of childhood tales, he knew better then to completely ignore them, after all, every tale had to have a beginning somewhere. Where a few hours before the leaves were lush and green, a sheen of white and frost had now formed. In a few weeks the land would be covered in snow. He hoped they would find the Dalish before that happened.

The Witch shifted on the log, wrapped in her cloak and trying to keep warm. It had been her own bad luck that she had been collecting elfroot when the others decided who would take the night's watch. Still, it had pleased her when she found that Aedan had volunteered to take the watch as well, he at least could provide a decent conversation, unlike Leliana, who constantly chattered about the Maker, or Alistair who would look at her like as if a demon would suddenly possess her. Not to mention the Qunari, the way he would stare at her, almost ready to kill her at a moments notice, though she would never show it, Morrigan was disturbed by Sten. Morrigan quickly realised it had been a while since Aedan had asked his question, and she had given no answer. Composing herself, she said, "I was not born as such, 'tis a skill of Flemeth's, taught over many years in the Wilds. The Chasind have legends about we Witches of the Wilds, how we would take the forms of animals and watch them, waiting until a child was lost and separated from their tribe. Then we would take the child to a cave and devour them, a most amusing tale."

His laugh surprised her, it was light, warm, genuine. His head turned towards her, watching her sit by the small fire they had set up "So I take it your mother has been doing this for some time then?"

"Changing her form, certainly. Devouring lost children, she has never done that in my experience, but in truth my lifespan is but a fraction of hers. Is there a reason you ask?" Morrigan wondered why the Warden so interested in her abilities, but it was a welcome distraction from the drudgery of the watch.

Aedan kept watching the tree line, but he had become focused on Morrigan. They had barely spoken since they left Flemeth's hut in the Wilds, though she said that she wished to see the world, Aedan suspected that she was not truly ready to leave her home. He hoped that choice would not be in vain, that they could do something, that they could stop the Blight, that the sacrifices they had all made would have meaning, that **they** could forgive him. Sensing Morrigan was waiting for a reply, Aedan turned and looked at her. Morrigan sat by the fire, her blanket now wrapped around her and for a moment he was almost certain she shivered. Winter was coming and though the Korcari Wilds were often chilled, winter on the eastern edges of Ferelden were bitter and ate to a person's core. He walked over and sat next to her on the log, the fire slowly warming his back. "Honestly, I have never heard of magic like that, I'm just curious about how it works."

"Oh? There are other schools of magic, regardless of what those fools in the Circle might have you believe. Indeed, it is not unheard of in the remote corners of the world, closely guarded secrets, passed down by practitioners from one generation to another. My mother is such a one." The Warden seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, Morrigan had assumed he would be like Alistair, a Chantry raised fool who distrusted anything magical. And yet, here he was, attentive and listening to her. Every time he talked he surprised her.

He smiled, his lips curling into a slight lopsided curve and nodded, "That's good. Such traditions need to be preserved."

Morrigan found herself smiling at his response, the more they talk the more she realised he was nothing like that fool Alistair. "I am surprised to hear you say that, still, 'tis a pleasant surprise. And in answer as to how I can change my form, I must first study an animal, learn how to move as it moves, think as it think. In time one can take the form of an animal one has studied."

Aedan nodded again, and reached for a pouch he had left by the log, and pulled out a loaf of bread and broke it in half, offering a piece to Morrigan. "I'm guessing you'd rather have this then some of that lamb and pea stew Alistair made. I'm also guessing by the way you described learning how to change your form, that you can not change your form to another Human."

Her hand paused over the heel of bread. In truth she had forgotten to eat while she had been collecting herbs, the stench from the grey slop the Templar had made had almost put her off eating anything that evening. But hunger had crept over her with the chill in the night, and she took the bread. It was a little stale, but it was certainly better then the concoction the blond fool had made. Swallowing a piece of bread, Morrigan turned to the Warden and said, "Thank you, and you are correct. I am able to change into an animal because an animal's form is different to my own. I cannot change my form to that of another human because I am already human. Have you heard what you wanted or is there anything else you'd like to know, Warden?"

"No, that's all I wanted to ask." Aedan picked off a piece of bread and turned it between his fingers before eating it.

Morrigan leaned back and looked at him, curious about what he was thinking and he thought of her. "Oh? Then you have an opinion about my abilities? Am I an abomination to be tied to a stake and burned?"

For a moment Aedan didn't answer, instead chewing the day old bread. He swallowed it, and tore off another piece, pausing to answer "I think, your abilities sound quite…. Useful." The bemused look on Morrigan's face caused him to laugh to himself. "To be honest, I wish to learn more about magic. I know what the Chantry says about magic, but how can something natural be considered a corruptive force? You're a part of nature, in a sense part of this world. There are things in this world far more unnatural then magic, such as forging weapons and killing other people for whatever reason comes to mind." And suddenly his appetite was gone, memories of the past few months flooding his mind and leaving a taste of ashes in his mouth.

Sensing the Warden was no longer in a talkative mood, Morrigan drew her cloak tighter to her body protecting herself from the cold. "Ah, an enlightened attitude, or at least an agreeable one. But I grow tired of all this talk, shall we return to the task at hand?"

Snapping back to reality, Aedan looked at the Witch and nodded. He reached for the bundle near the fire and unrolled the blanket, offering it to Morrigan. "Perhaps you're right, and here, there's no sense in the both of us freezing tonight. Get some sleep, it will be dawn soon."

Surprised by the kindness the Warden kept showing towards her, Morrigan was unable to say anything beyond a mumbled thank you, before moving closer to the fire. It was strange how tiredness and exhaustion swept over her as she laid by the fire, and yet as her eyelids grew heavier, Morrigan asked the Warden what he would do.

The last words she heard before sleep overtook her were, "I'll keep watch."

_I'll keep watch._

_I'll always keep watch._

The rays of morning sunlight slowly filtered through the leaves and branches of the Pilgrim's Path, creating a show of dazzling lights as the sun rose higher. The sounds of a world slowly waking up crept through the air, the wind gently swaying the branches back and forth, rustling the leaves on their stalks, the cool air caressing his cheek. Had this been any other day, some would have felt this morning to be perfect. All Aedan Cousland could feel as he turned the rosewood ring on his finger was the stench of death hanging over him, the events of the previous weeks playing through his mind.

With the assault on Vigil's Keep by the Darkspawn thwarted, Aedan had time to take stock of what had happened. Of the twelve Orlesian Wardens who had been charged to help rebuild the Order, only one was thought to still live, a warrior named Kristoff who had been investigating the tainted creatures in the Blackmarsh. The other Wardens were either killed in the attack or had been captured by the Darkspawn, a fact that was unheard of when one considered that Darkspawn would try to kill Grey Wardens on sight, and something that terrified Aedan. Troops who had been on patrol began to filter back to the Vigil meaning that it would not be undefended for long, and it allowed Aedan to concentrate on other matters. Though he had wished to hunt down the Darkspawn as soon as possible, the matter of running an Arling had to come first.

The swearing of fealty by the Arling's Banns had caused him no end of headache, especially when Anders uncovered evidence of a conspiracy against Aedan, it seemed that though Rendon Howe's treachery was exposed there were those whose prospects were ruined by Aedan killing Howe. The conspirators had been diligent in covering their identities, meaning that unless a mercenary by the name of the Dark Wolf he had hired to investigate the conspiracy came up with something Aedan would have to wait for the nobles to strike at him. _Let them try, Loghain and half the kingdom tried to kill me, and they're dead. _

The sounds of someone stirring behind him ended Aedan's watch of the forest. Turning he saw the newest Grey Warden waking up, Nathaniel Howe. By all rights Aedan should hate him, but he could not bring himself to do that. Despite everything Rendon did, he had been lucky to die in that Denerim dungeon. With his and Loghain's deaths, the Howe name had been dragged through the mud, any and all honours they had garnered in nearly four ages of faithful service to Ferelden were forgotten as his crimes were brought to light, the abandonment of Cailan and the army at Ostagar, the torture of those who had opposed Loghain and the murder of the Couslands, each sin destroying a good name that twelve generations had struggled to build. By the end of the Blight, the name Howe meant nothing, everything they had worked for was gone, all because of the greed of a worm of a man.

Nathaniel had not known any of this. All he knew was that his father was dead, his family's lands were taken and he was a pariah. His home had been taken over by the people responsible for his father's death, the place he had grown up was crawling with Orlesian filth. The only reason he could discern was that his father had sided with the losing side of a civil war. Even when told what his father had done, Nathaniel had still believed his father was a good man. Aedan remembered when he had found Nathaniel in a cell in the Vigil, he saw a man seeking vengeance, but the memories of a childhood lost overcame any bloodlust he had. In the end all Nathaniel desired was some of his family's heirlooms, and to know the truth of why his family had been destroyed.

At first the air between the two men was frosty, neither one hating the other, but neither could forget the pain done to them. Even when Nathaniel had found his sister was still alive and living in Amaranthine and found out the true reason for his family's end, Nathaniel had chosen to keep to himself. In fact the longest conversation they had was when Nathaniel had recalled his grandfather who had joined the Grey Wardens, of how his father had vilified the man for abandoning his family to join a pointless cause. It wasn't until he himself had undergone the Joining that Nathaniel realised the sacrifice his grandfather had made, and that every preconception he had about his grandfather was wrong. In the end Aedan had guessed that so much had changed for Nathaniel in such a short time, he needed time to adjust. If time was what he needed, so be it, the young Howe fought hard and was certainly adept at killing Darkspawn, and that was all that mattered for now.

Nathaniel walked over to the dying fire and stoked the embers, bringing a bit of life back to the ashes. The stew Anders had prepared the night before slowly heated up, the scent of rabbit meat and root vegetables waking the mage and Oghren from their slumber. As seemed to be a tradition for him, Oghren rubbed his eyes and belched, the alcohol on his breath reaching Aedan even though his was on the other side of the clearing.

"Ugh, by the Stone, how can you sodding blighters sleep with all those dreams?" The dwarf reached for a clay bottle and shook it, finding the mead it once contained gone.

Seeing it was empty Oghren threw the bottle down and looked at the three humans. "Alright, which one of you nug humpers drank my ale?"

"You did, you drunken, ale soaked mountain of belches. You drank three weeks supply of alcohol in less then an night. How are you still alive?" Anders was staring at him, incredulous that the dwarf was still breathing, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot's head poking out of the pouch the mage always carried with him.

Oghren looked at him confused, trying to remember the drink and who the mouthy mage was. After a moment he belched again. "Heh, talent, that's how!"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and spooned the stew into bowls, passing them to the others. The stew wasn't much, but it was filling, and at the moment, that was all that mattered. Oghren had made a good point, the dreams he had were disturbing, images of Darkspawn and the horrors they committed were still fresh in his mind. He looked at the Commander, and wondering what he dreamt of, if he ever slept that is. In the few weeks he had been a Grey Warden, Nathaniel had rarely ever seen Aedan sleep, he had always insisted on taking the watch whenever they were in the field. Perhaps the nightmares were greater and more terrifying for those who joined during a Blight, or perhaps he didn't trust Nathaniel. _And why should he? I told him I came to the Vigil to kill him, to avenge my father. But everything people said about my father is true. Why should he trust the son of a murderer and a traitor._

Aedan still stood watch as the others ate, discussing the dreams they had, and what they had meant. The images of hordes of Genlocks and Hurlocks flashed in his mind, an ogre's roar ringing in his ears, all of which would have been welcome, if that was actually what he had dreamt of at night. Instead, the only dreams that came to him now were that of the dead, torn and blood soaked, people who had trusted him to protect them, now pointing and accusing him of murder. They would tear at him, seeking retribution for his failings. Everyone he had failed would come for him, their hands raking at him, screaming at him, asking why they died when he survived. In the end, the dead would exact their punishment and destroy him.

Every time he tried to sleep, Aedan would wake with a silent scream, sweat running down his brow and his body, at times he would still feel the cold, dead hands tearing at him. _Why should I rest, when the dead won't let me?_

The sounds of dirt being kicked onto the fire signalled the others were ready to leave, their equipment packed. Aedan turned his head and looked at his fellow Grey Wardens, and nodded. The Wending Woods waited for them.

As the small group moved towards the forest, Oghren trailed behind them, his helmet hiding the concerned look he had. Aedan was like family to him, but the Warden leading them now was a shadow of the man who the Dwarf had fought alongside during the Blight. He'd seen this happen with survivors of Deep Road expeditions who had been massacred by the Darkspawn, they'd become withdrawn, have flashbacks or sometimes not remember what had happened. Sometimes, those Dwarves would come back, become the people they had been before, unfortunately though far too many would try to end it, the guilt driving them mad. All Oghren could hope was that the Commander would snap out of it. _But by the Stone, he isn't going to do anything stupid, not while I'm here. I owe him that much. _Shrugging the backpack into a more comfortable position, Oghren ran after the three Humans, mumbling something about how the sodding dusters were moving so fast on purpose.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Life And Death"

Her hands pressed against the blood soaked material that had been her uniform. No matter how hard she had pressed down on the wound, blood still seeped through her fingers. The attack had been quick and vicious, the caravan destroyed and the guards accompanying the traders slaughtered before they knew what had hit them. As Nathly tried to look around for any survivors, she was surprised to find she felt no pain, and it terrified her. Her friends were dead, torn apart, and she knew now she was dying. Tears welled in her eyes and Nathly felt herself becoming colder. All she could now was pray to the Maker, asking for forgiveness and hoping that He would take her by His side. Before she could finish the prayer, she coughed, a taste of copper filling her mouth. A shadow passed over her, a human-like shape blurred by the sun. Nathly weakly raised a hand for help, she tried to speak but blood bubbled up. All she could feel now was something rough wrapping around her body, tightening and squeezing her. As the last of her life was crushed out of her and her world darkened, Nathly thought she could hear a voice taunting her, "You can rest now, Shem. Your kind has taken much, from the world and from me, but at least now, you can give something back!"

And then Nathly saw no more.

The air had become still, and the forest silent. The Wardens had been walking for several hours with no sign of Darkspawn. A week beforehand word had filtered to the Vigil that trade caravans travelling along the Pilgrim's Path were being attacked. While this was worrying, the Vigil's Treasurer, Mistress Woolsey demanded that the Wardens investigated the attacks, though it had been apparent that her concern was for the Arling's coffers, not for the merchants and guards being killed. Realising he'd rather be in the field then listen to her and the constant droning about the financial state of the Arling, Aedan had gathered the other Wardens and set off for the Wending Woods.

Unfortunately, the silence and a lack of any sign of Darkspawn had given Aedan time to think and to remember the past. It had been several years since he had last been in the Wending Woods, on hunting trips his father would take him and Fergus on. He had enjoyed those times in the forest, away from the tutors and the history lessons. He relished in learning how to track game, picking out their prints and the paths they would take. But what he had truly enjoyed was being with his father. For those few short weeks he simply had a father, not a Teryn, not a man of responsibility or duty to the King and Fereldan, who would be called away to the Landsmeet or to Orlais, instead, for a few weeks in the Summer, he had a father, who taught he and his brother how to hunt and to track.

Aedan almost smiled at a memory of the last time he had been in the Woods. It had been his fourteenth year, and in a few months he would leave Highever and Ferelden to serve as a squire for a friend of Bryce's in Nevarra. His Mabari, Beast would join them, the small pup excited to be leaving the castle, as would Fergus, a final hunt before his upcoming marriage to a young Antivan noblewoman named Oriana. When they had arrived at their camp, Fergus had suggested a competition to see who could kill the largest stag. For two weeks, father and son were able to sneak up and make their kills, Fergus accounting for four prize stags, Bryce three, though Aedan had failed to kill a single animal, every shot he made missing. At the end of the competition, Fergus had taken to teasing his little brother about his lack of skill with a bow, and how he wouldn't be able to hit a castle gate from twenty yards. All the while Aedan smiled and let his brother have his fun, right up until he tapped Fergus on the shoulder and asked him to look at a small serpent that was slithering up a tree in the next clearing, nearly two hundred yards away. Fergus could barely see it, its brown skin blending with the bark of the Oak, only its movement betraying its existence.

Aedan looked at his brother and smiled, "Fergus, watch very carefully." With that the young boy brought his longbow up, and in one movement, drew an arrow from his quiver, notched it and fired.

Fergus was dumbstruck when he saw the arrow hit the serpent in the head. Bryce who had been watching his sons, laughed as Fergus ran over to the dead serpent, trying to figure out what had happened. Bryce walked over to his youngest and looked at him, the grey streaks in his once brown hair catching the sunlight. Chuckling, he asked, "Pup, if you could use a bow like that, why did you kill any stags? You had more then enough chances."

Aedan knelt down to Beast, the puppy exhausted by the day's hunt, and rubbed the hound's ears. "What would be the point Father? We weren't hunting for food and they didn't pose any danger to us. And in case you didn't notice, Father, I got closer to them then either you or Fergus. I could have made any one of those shots, I just chose not to."

Aedan remembered the smile that had formed on his father's face, the look of pride in his eyes, and the sound of his laugh as Fergus returned with the serpent in hand and looked at his younger brother in awe and shock. The Warden Commander almost smiled, and looked up, only to see his father standing before him, covered in blood, his skin pale and rotting, dead eyes staring at him accusingly. Bryce raised his hand and pointed at his son, his mouth slack as if to scream.

"Hey, Commander, something the matter? You just kind of stopped." Oghren was tapping the flat side of the large axe's head on Aedan's shoulder. Anders and Nathaniel looked on confused, was this some sort of attack or something else….

Shaking his head, the image of his father faded from his vision like dust on the wind, Aedan looked at his friend and nodded, "I'm fine Oghren, I just thought I sensed some Darkspawn," _A lie, but it will do for now._

Oghren twitched at the sound of that name, his fingers gripping the haft of the axe tighter filling the air with the sound of scraping metal. Aedan had told him that Grey Wardens could sense Darkspawn, over time, but it would take several weeks for the ability to fully develop. At first, they would barely notice the sensation, like nails being pulled across the skin, or whispers in the back of their mind, but eventually they would be able to recognise the signs. Oghren was about to say something when Aedan raised his hand, stopping him. The Dwarf wondered if it was Darkspawn again, but immediately saw it, a column of black smoke over the trees, the acrid smell of burning wood reached them, and with it a scent that all of them recognised. It was a scent the Wardens ran towards without hesitation.

It was the smell of burning human flesh.

As they ran, the past flashed in Aedan's mind, the forest and death triggering memories of another forest, and the dangers fought there.

The werewolf slammed him against the stone floor, the only thing keeping its fangs from ripping out his throat was his right arm pressing against the beast's own throat. They had foolishly walked into an ambush, the old Tevinter ruins hiding more then just secrets of the past. Leliana had been knocked out by one of the werewolves leaping from shadows, causing her to hit her head against the wall. Alistair was hard-pressed to defend himself from an onslaught of attacks, his shield barely keeping up with his assailants. Morrigan had fared better, freezing two of the werewolves, and electrocuting one that had tried to attack her from behind, lightning coursing through its body. The Witch only stopped when she was certain the animal was dead, and because the two werewolves she had frozen were about to thaw, ready to attack again.

The werewolf attacking him was pressing closer, the rotting smell of its breath reaching him, even through the enclosed helmet he wore. Thick drool fell from its mouth, splattering against his helmet, the few strands that fell through felt hot against his skin. Aedan couldn't keep this up forever, nor could his companions keep fighting, Alistair was falling back, the blows against his armour weakening him. Morrigan too, was starting to show signs of the battle was getting to her, her spells seeming weaker each time she cast them. Unable to use his right arm, his family's sword fallen, Aedan reached for the dagger he had dropped in the attack but found nothing. Risking taking his eyes off his attacker, Aedan looked for the blade and found it, just out of reach of his hand. As if sensing what the human was trying to do, the werewolf pulled away, pinning Aedan to the ground with its gnarled paw, the other raised in the air to land the killing blow.

It was all the Warden needed. He pushed the werewolf back, and reached for the dagger. Both he and the werewolf made their final attack, both aimed at the other's throats. Aedan's hit home first. If it was possible, Aedan thought he could see a look of surprise in the beast's eyes, the froth around it's mouth had become bloody, it's paws pathetically trying to pull the dagger out. Without wasting time making sure it was dead, Aedan pushed the mass of fur and dead weight off him, gathering his sword from where it had fallen and charged towards the remaining beasts.

The first to die was a werewolf that had grabbed Morrigan by the throat and began to squeeze. Aedan brought the sword down on its arm, severing it at the elbow. Morrigan dropped to the ground, the arm still clutching her throat, a look of disdain on her face. The werewolf in agony, blood pouring from the stump where it's arm had been. In a blind rage, the werewolf swiped at Aedan, the young warrior avoiding the clumsy blow with ease. Using his body weight to gain momentum, Aedan swung the sword at the creature's misshapen head, the grey iron blade cutting deep into it's neck, stopping only as the sword hit bone. Stopping only to make sure Morrigan was alright, the Warden twisted the blade free from the now dead werewolf and ran to help Alistair.

His fellow Warden had managed to slay one werewolf, it's head caved in by the heavy steel mace the Templar had taken to using. Unfortunately, Alistair had found himself in the same position as Aedan had been in less then a moment ago, pinned to the ground, the final werewolf about to kill him. Aedan charged, driving his sword into the flank of the werewolf. It roared and swung it's arm wildly, it's claws catching Aedan's helmet, tearing the metal apart and knocking the warrior back. As he fell back, Aedan kept his grip on the sword, the blade tearing away as he fell. An all too human scream filled the Warden's ears as the werewolf died, futilely clutching it's ruined torso.

The fighting over, Aedan sat up, and tore away his helmet, discarding it when it was apparent the damage was clearly irreparable. Alistair was on his feet helping Leliana, who thankfully seemed more dazed then injured, Aedan almost laughed when he heard the Chantry Sister saying she thought her bruises were forming a pretty pattern. Noticing Morrigan looked exhausted, the battle must have been a greater strain for her then the two warriors, Aedan walked over and helped the young woman up, gently lifting her up off the ground. Morrigan looked at him with a look of confusion and disdain, and was about to say something when she nearly fainted. Aedan caught her before she fell and kept her steady, now he was sure the battle had exhausted Morrigan. Unsure as to what still remained in the old ruins, Aedan kept his voice low. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, though that was a pretty tough fight." The reply came from behind, as Alistair let Leliana lean against him. As he looked at his fellow Warden and the Witch, he realised Aedan had not been talking to him, and rather sheepishly announced that he would check for any more traps or ambushes.

Morrigan watched the Templar walk away, and feeling her strength returning uttered a "Fool."

Aedan managed a smile, almost agreeing with Morrigan. "I will admit that sometimes he can be a little clueless, but you have to agree, he can fight well."

She snapped at him, pulling away from the Warden at the same time, "I did not mean him, I was talking about you. I am fine, now let us go and find this Witherfang and be done with this place!"

As he watched Morrigan walk after Alistair and Leliana, Aedan collected his dagger and his sword, and stopped, staring at the laurel wreath engraved on the pommel of the sword. The blade was covered in blood, already turning black in what little light there was in the ruins. Aedan knelt down and brought the hilt to his head. _I'm sorry that it's come to this. Please. Forgive me._

Raising, he took one last look around the crumbling chamber and ran into the darkness.

_Please._

_Forgive me._

Darkness fell away, breaking apart by the light of the forest and Aedan's mind returned to the present.

The bandits looting the caravan stood no chance against the four Wardens, Nathaniel and Anders taking a commanding position on a small hill, the rogue and the mage preventing anyone from escaping, while Aedan and Oghren waded into combat. The bandits were poorly equipped, their swords and maces doing very little damage against the heavy plate armour the two warriors wore and unfortunately, the reverse could not be said for the Wardens. Each strike of sword and axe killed a bandit, each spell paralysing or freezing and each arrow hit its mark. The battle had been vicious, brutal and over in less then a moment.

As Nathaniel and Oghren disposed of the bandits, Aedan and Anders had taken to examining the caravan for some clue as to what had happened. The damage done to the wagons made it clear that it had not been done by the bandits, they had been torn apart, by something large, and powerful. Anders had determined that the fire that was now eating away the caravan was magically created, a talent he doubted any of the bandits had. The longer he looked at the burning wreck, the more Aedan realised that the Darkspawn had nothing to do with this attack, weapons and armour had been left to burn. Whatever did this did so in a rage, and it would continue to do so unless someone stopped it.

As if sensing what the Commander was thinking, Anders sighed and said, "I guess this means we won't be heading back to the Vigil then?"

Aedan was about to answer when Nathaniel called for them. Anders followed the Commander wondering what the rogue had found, and was a little disappointed to find Nathaniel and Oghren looking at a hole, granted, it was deep, his forearm could probably just touch the bottom, but it was still just a hole in the ground. "Oh, fascinating, a hole in the ground, well mystery solved, I guess we can home now."

"Hey, you man-skirt wearing freak, it's not that easy." Oghren was still staring at the hole, growling to the mage and pointed to a series of similar impressions in the ground, leading from the wrecked caravan and deeper into the forest.

Aedan tapped Anders on the shoulder and explained, "They aren't holes, they're footprints."

Anders' heart sank and though he already knew the answer he still asked the question, "We're going to follow them, aren't we?"

A scream in the distance was the reply, the Commander, Oghren and Nathaniel already running towards to source.

They found it on an old rope bridge, a badly injured man stumbling across, fear etched on his face. He had been babbling nonsense about **her**, and how she was after him, killing anyone who stepped foot in the forest. His head jerked up to some unheard noise and terrified he pushed past the Wardens and ran.

"I told you to leave this forest and not come back!"

The party looked around for the source of the voice, and found it in a young elven woman, talking down to them from a cliff. She looked tired, as though she hadn't slept for several days, dirt streaked her clothing and her face, though the markings she wore on her face were still clear to see. Leaves had become caught in her hair, the dying sunlight giving it an unnatural hue. Flaks of earth and rock constantly formed and fell from her body, sparks of fire crackled around her hands. A mage, and a powerful one at that.

The elf stared at the four men intently, realising that they were too well armed to be simple militia. A warrior in dark red plate armour seemed to be their leader, thick black hair obscuring much of his face, though she could see the piercing green eyes staring right back at her.

"We are Grey Wardens, searching the Darkspawn in the region." It was more of a growl then a response.

The elf snorted at the title, uncaring who the men were or why they were here. "You may hunt your precious Darkspawn, but then leave, and do not return! Your kind killed my friends and took my sister, tell them **I WANT HER BACK**!"

With that the elf seemed to summon large roots which enveloped her and dragged her into the earth.

It was Nathaniel who voiced what the others were thinking, "She has to be the one behind the attacks on the caravans. So what will we do now? Hunt her?"

"We'll have to find her first."

Nathaniel looked at the Commander, and watched as he walked towards where the elven mage had just been, Oghren close behind. Nathaniel turned to Anders and shrugged, then started to follow them. Anders opened the pouch and looked at Ser Pounce-A-Lot as the kitten slept. _Well, I guess we're not going home just yet._ Closing the pouch, the mage ran after his companions.

Moments later, the Wardens found themselves in a small Dalish encampment overlooking the bridge they had crossed, surrounded by stone ruins. What they found there was a massacre. Elven bodies laid dead and broken, many of them looked as though they had been killed in their sleep, unable to defend themselves. Human made weapons were scattered around the campsite, the aravel the elves had been using torn apart by axes and mauls, many of which were still embedded in the wooden carriages.

"You know that this was staged, right, boss?" Oghren was kneeling beside an elf, examining the wounds.

Anders looked at the dwarf, unsure how to talk without vomiting, the reek of death causing his stomach to flip. Eventually he manage to ask…. And then preceded to throw up in the corner of one of the ruins.

"Try breathing through your teeth instead of through your nose Anders." Aedan offered him a flask of water. Anders nodded, took the flask and drank deeply from it , his stomach still uneasy. "And we know it was staged because the weapons are still here. These are good quality weapons, Anders, costing more then a militiaman or solider might make in several months, you aren't going to just abandon them like this."

Nathaniel had climbed to one of the few windows still intact in the ruins, searching for signs of anyone still in the forest and keeping watch for any assailants while the others searched for clues as to who did this. He knew the Dalish often travelled through the Wending Woods, but he could not remember a time when the elves actually attacked a person. Granted, the various villages did not care for the Dalish travelling near their homes, but the two groups kept to themselves. _So why go to the trouble of starting a small war here? It just doesn't make sense. _

A glint of light caught his attention, down in the valley. He could just make out a lean-to, hidden amongst the trees. There was someone else in the forest. Nathaniel called to the others and pointed it to them. They were getting closer to finding some answers.

What they found didn't help.

In the lean-to they found a dying militiaman, tainted by the Darkspawn, open sores and dark bruises covering his skin. Aedan and Oghren had seen it before in the Deep Roads, though Anders and Nathaniel looked disgusted at the sight. The militiaman, Olaf, spoke to them, but made very little sense, from what they had gathered, his company was sent into the woods to investigate claims that a group of Dalish had not moved on. They had been ambushed by Darkspawn and slaughtered, some were captured and taken by the creatures, including a young elven woman. From the dead, the Darkspawn took their weapons and attacked the Dalish, leaving the swords behind. Olaf began to rant, asking for release from the pain. The others watched as Aedan unsheathed a small dagger and dragged it across the man's throat, ending his pain.

"All this death, because of a misunderstanding? Maker…. That's horrible. We have to stop her, make her understand! We have to check that camp again Commander!"

Aedan stood up and removed the sword and axe from their sheathes. "That might be difficult Anders, considering we have company."

The others looked around and saw what the Commander meant. They were so preoccupied with Olaf, they never noticed the Darkspawn sneak up on them or the arrows notching onto bowstrings.

The Wardens were outnumbered and surrounded.

Aedan turned and roared at the leader of the Darkspawn. He charged.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"A Lover's Kiss"

The tome felt heavy in her hands, as though its pages were burdened by the weight of years and the terrible secrets kept within its leather bound cover. She had learned much in the time she had studied the book, though little of the knowledge brought her comfort. In its pages, the book told her of the pact her mother made with the demon in the Wilds, of those who tried to stop her mother and how they died at her hands, of the torments Flemeth visited on those who thought they had succeeded , and most chilling of all, the cycle of possession and death that Flemeth had used to keep herself alive. Each page made her feel more and more disturbed, until finally she could not stand anymore for the day and closed the book, dust escaping the pages as the cover closed.

The room felt dark and oppressive, the one window in the cottage offering little light. Feeling she had spent too long in the cottage, Morrigan left the book behind and turned towards the door. She needed to feel free, to get away from the book and the room. The door opened to a gentle summer's breeze across the marshland, lifting the litter of the nearby woods into the air, playing with the leaves before letting them fall to the ground.

Morrigan felt peaceful here, in many ways the Nahashin Marsh reminded her of the Korcari Wilds where she grew up, of the waterways and hidden paths where she could travel safely. Though she had been here for nearly three months she had learned her way around the Marsh quickly enough, she knew where to hide if any unwanted guests, which sites would be ideal for a home if she was forced to abandon the cottage. In truth, Morrigan had found the task exhausting, her pregnancy making it more difficult for her to move for any period, instead the Witch had taken to rest more and more, which allowed her to think, and to remember.

She walked towards a nearby tree and sat underneath the bough, the leaves cooling her. At times the Marsh reminded Morrigan of the Korcari Wilds, the chill of the night like her mother and her childhood. And yet, now, underneath the afternoon summer sun, she thought of him. He was always warm to her, patient and kind, and yes, while he was occasionally sarcastic with her, Aedan always had found time to talk with her. Even hurt or exhausted, he always seemed to be able to talk to her. And as she thought of him the Marsh changed from a sea of green and yellow grass to a forest, branches heavy with snow and ice.

Each step she took crunched under the fresh snow, every step requiring more of an effort. Morrigan had thought herself used to the cold, but this was becoming intolerable. A thin layer of snow stubbornly clung to her cloak, despite her best efforts to shake it off. She hated the winter, almost laughing at the irony when she realised her own abilities could conjure up frost and ice far colder then what she felt now. Still, the closeness of the forest, combined with their recent trials in the Brecilian Forest, left Morrigan feeling disturbed, though she did not show it. All that mattered now was leaving the forest, the Elves honouring their treaty with the Grey Wardens and pledging to fight alongside them against the Blight when the time came.

Stopping to rest for a moment, she looked around at the party, to see where they were on the forest path. The Qunari was leading the way, powering through the snow, Aedan's Mabari close behind the warrior, jumping into snow banks and sending fresh flakes into the air. The hound was a nuisance, but it did have its uses, in fact it was a formidable guardian, keeping watch over it's master as the party slept at night. She often wondered what events brought the Warden and the hound together, what must have transpired for the Mabari to become that loyal. _Perhaps the beast was a gift, or the Warden found it one day. Still, I suppose it does not matter, it kept him safe, and that is all that matters._

But the Qunari, that was a different matter. There was something about the dark skinned warrior that seemed…_off, is that the word? _The way he would look at the Humans, the disdain he showed towards her and the others, as if they did not matter and the otherworldly calmness he showed at all times annoyed her. Morrigan had, on several occasions, tried to talk to Sten, only to be ignored or, once, asked what she was doing here, fighting, instead of tending the crops, or behind the counter of a store. Rather then argue with the Qunari, Morrigan had given up talking to him. But, now, the way he looked at them, made her realise the Wardens would have to keep a close eye on him.

Forgetting Sten for now, Morrigan looked at the pair of huddled figures walking away from her, Alistair and Leliana talking to each other about their respective lives in the Chantry. _Inane, chattering simpletons. _She had become so focussed on the two that the young woman never heard the figure approach from behind and did not hear him lean in closer. It was only when he spoke did she notice she was not alone.

"You better not stand around for too long, you might freeze."

Morrigan turned and saw Aedan standing before her, carrying the party's provisions on his back, a ridiculous grin spread across his face. His hand brushed his hair away from his face, catching the small beads of sweat in his hair, giving it a strange sheen in the winter sun. Suddenly the smile was gone, now replaced by a look of regret.

"My apologies if I startled you. Is everything alright?"

_The fool scares me and asks if I am alright._ "I am fine, 'tis nothing to be concerned about. Why are you bothering me anyway?" The response was brusque, and even before she had finished the sentence, Morrigan realised she had been too blunt with him. In truth, the Warden was the only person in the party who could keep up with her intellectually, and while he often joked and acted like an idiot, she did enjoy talking to him.

Aedan shrugged and raised his hand in defeat, and continued moving through the snow. "I didn't mean to bother you, I just thought you'd like to talk."

"Oh? And why would I wish to talk to you?" _Does he wish to play? Very well, I shall have some fun, if only to break the monotony of this forest._ The Witch smiled despite herself when the Warden's lips split into that grin as he spun around to her, explaining himself.

"Simple, in case you haven't noticed, there isn't a lot of choice here. Talk to Alistair and he'll go on about the Chantry or annoy you, or cheese, maybe all three. Leliana will talk to you about shoes for at least an hour, before going on to talk about the Maker and thanking him for shoes. Sten just doesn't talk and Beast? Well, if you get into an argument with him, you aren't going to win. That dog is too smart for his own good. So for the time being, you're stuck with me." He winked, turning around to follow the others.

_He is confident, I will give him that. At least this journey won't be too bad. _The snow crunched as Morrigan started to walk after the Warden.

"Oh, and before I forget, I got this as we were leaving the Dalish camp. I thought that you might like it."

Aedan had reached into the small pouch on his belt and withdrew a stone, a piece of aquamarine, wrapped in strands of silver, arranged in intricate patterns. He placed it into her hand, the stone feeling warm against her skin. She had never seen workmanship like that before, the aquamarine cut to look like a tree, the silver setting forming the branches and roots, keeping the stone in place. A pin held the pieces together, allowing it to be fastened to a cloak. _Why would he give this to me?_

"It's a brooch, I noticed the clasp on your cloak was broken. So, errr, this one is to replace it."

He looked unsure, nervous, as if afraid of what her response would be. _Why would he care what I thought, and why is he spending coin on me? Does he wish something from me?_

"I…thank you. Perhaps 'tis best if we moved on before we freeze."

For the rest of the day, Aedan and Morrigan discussed many things, mainly about her life in the Wilds, their thoughts about the world and people. The Warden had asked about her mother, and the legends surrounding Flemeth. Morrigan had told him the truth, at least what her mother had told her to be the truth, though the years and Flemeth's own bitter memories perhaps tainting the tale. That once Flemeth was one of the most beautiful women in Highever, if not Ferelden, married to a bard named Osen. That tales of her beauty had reached Conobar, the lord of the land, and how he offered Osen a fortune to be with the musician's wife. Aedan had been surprised to hear that Flemeth had been the one to broker the agreement, but had let Morrigan continue her tale without interruption. He learned that Conobar had reneged on the deal, instead taking Flemeth and had Osen murdered. Flemeth was enraged, summoning spirits to deal with Conobar, only turning to the legend's demon as Conobar's allies hunted her down in the Korcari Wilds. After that, the Chasind invasion Flemeth was supposed to have lead was actually told to cover the fact that the legendary hero Cormac had instigated a civil war against his enemies, blaming Flemeth for possessing the nobles, necessitating his attacks to protect the land. In truth Flemeth never left the Wilds and never encountered Cormac. After hearing the true tale, such as it was, Aedan smiled and nodded.

"An interesting story, thank you for telling it."

"Dare I ask of your own mother? Few are not quite the monsters of legend, still, I find myself curious."

For the first time since they left the Wilds, away from the battles, Morrigan saw Aedan's face darken, the usual joy and confidence gone. He had stopped, his head lowered to his chest. It took the young woman a moment to realise that he had spoken, his voice so low, Morrigan had barely heard it.

"Its not something I want to talk about right now." Aedan raised his head, and started to move again, "Come on, we're almost out of the woods. We can rest soon."

The clearing was sheltered, the cliff standing over protecting them from the worst of the night's wind and chill. Alistair had spent several minutes trying to dig into the ground to put up his tent, only to realise the ground was frozen solid. Leliana stood nearby, waiting expectantly for the Templar to put up her tent. Sten had taken to standing watch, Beast at his side. Aedan and Morrigan arrived just in time to see Alistair give up and kick the ground in frustration, somehow managing to find the only rock in the area. Leliana had started to giggle at the sight of the Warden hopping around on one foot, clutching the other.

"I didn't realise we were getting dinner and a show Alistair, you done yet?"

Alistair stopped and glared at his fellow Grey Warden, absentmindedly rubbing his boot. "Oh, you're so funny. Well tell me, how are we going to set up camp and a fire with all this snow?"

"Alistair, this is a pine forest, pine wood is full of resin that is very flammable. You could soak it in a river, shake the water off and watch it burn. We get some pine and light it, should be more then enough to keep us warm tonight. And judging by the look on your face, you have no idea what pine wood looks like. Fine, I'll get it." Aedan waved his friend off, moving towards the forest.

A few moments later, Aedan was gathering firewood, unaware he was being watched. She found him to be a curious being, a mystery. At times he would be open, listening to what Morrigan had to say, eager to learn about her, and yet, if she asked him about his life before the Grey Wardens, he would find some excuse or reason to not answer. There was something in his past that he did not want to share, although she found herself wondering why she cared. Perhaps she didn't like to be kept in the dark, or perhaps it should only be fair that she knew as much about him as Aedan knew about her.

"I see you can find your way around a forest, tell me, did you live in one as a child?" She almost smiled to see he was surprised, the bundle of pine he had been carrying falling to the ground.

Aedan laughed at himself, that he had been scared so easily. "No, I didn't, but I grew up around one, learned all the tricks of how to survive in the woods, tracking, what's safe to eat, what isn't. That basically means I can't get lost in a forest. Happy?"

"Perhaps, though I must admit, I would like to know more about you, 'tis only fair, seeing as you have learned much about me. I am not one for mysteries."

He smiled at her, and stalked towards the young woman, kicking up brief flurries of he moved, before stopping before her. The Warden towered over her, at least a head taller, and yet, she felt no fear, instead Morrigan felt safe around him. _'Tis a curious thing. _Aedan leaned towards her, his eyes staring at her with an intensity like fire. His lips moved closer to hers, only stopping as Morrigan moved back slightly.

"What's this? 'Tis a rather odd discussion you seem to desire, leaning in so closely." She asked playfully.

He smiled, a crooked smile, his voice almost a whisper, "Do you object?"

The Witch's fingers lightly gripped his collar, purring as she pulled him towards her, "Only if you stop."

The world and its sounds faded away as they kissed. His lips tasted sweet, her hand ran through his hair, thick and soft, his moving along her back, the metal cold against her skin, but it felt good. He pulled her closer to him, embracing her, the passion rising between the Witch and the Warden. She wanted him and from the look in his eyes he felt the same. This felt right for her.

And suddenly the world crashed in around them as a voice in the distance called out to them. It was Alistair, his usual charming self.

"Can we get some firewood soon before we freeze to death? That would be great, thank you!"

Aedan pulled away, a brief flash of anger in his eyes. Morrigan could hear muttering under his breath, about how he was going to kill Alistair, or at least get him for that. _If he does not, I will._

"Well Warden, perhaps we should finish this another time, when there aren't any simpletons nearby to distract us?" With that, Morrigan gently pushed Aedan away and started back towards camp.

The memory of that first kiss, the feeling of his lips against hers were still as strong now, as they were then. And that's what worried Morrigan. A reminder of a time when her Warden was gentler, kinder, more open. Now, thanks to the ring she gave him, all she could feel from Aedan was anger, rage and guilt, all directed at himself, everyday a bit of the man he had been disappeared. Despite herself and the promise she had forced him to make, to never come after her, Morrigan wished she was with him, to try and help him.

Suddenly the summer sun no longer felt warm.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Shadows"

The pendant glinted in the sunlight, causing the tainted blood that stained it to appear like drops of garnet. As he held it up to the light, Aedan could see that it was of Dalish make, a simple design, but that was the beauty of it, a small piece of ironbark cut into a small oval, inlaid silver strands contrasting the dark grey of the wood. A hole had been drilled into the wood, allowing the owner to string a leather cord through and the pendant be worn around the neck. An engraving of a Halla completed the piece. A remarkably crafted piece, lovingly made for some dear to the heart, it was a shame that it had ended up in the hands of the Darkspawn. _Most likely another victim of the fiends, the pendant another trophy. _

He wasn't sure why, but Aedan felt a need to keep the pendant nearby, in some vain hope of coming across a relative, to perhaps bring them a measure of peace. _If such a thing can be granted. _As he slipped the piece into his belt pouch, the Warden Commander scanned the clearing, trying to understand what had happened only a few moments ago. Oghren was moving Darkspawn to Darkspawn, ensuring the creatures were dead, the dwarf's axe occasionally falling as he finished off a survivor. Anders had taken to casting a rejuvenating spell on the party, the wounds they had suffered closing and healing as the magic took effect. Aedan could already feel the deep laceration on his arm healing as the skin weaved itself together, Anders was proving himself to be a capable Warden, any doubts he had of conscripting the apostate disappearing every battle. He'd have to tell Anders that when they got back to the Vigil.

Nathaniel had scouted ahead to make sure there were no more Darkspawn awaiting them. Despite the family name, Nathaniel was nothing like Rendon, a young man forced to bear father's sins, sins the young man had nothing to do with or had even known of. Aedan could understand how Nathaniel felt when he returned to Ferelden, only to find himself a pariah, and hated by many who had once been friends to his family. To return to your homeland and find nothing of your family remaining, an enemy controlling the place you grew up, yes, Aedan knew what that felt like. The rage, the pain, the guilt, he knew all the emotions that had run through Nathaniel's head, and he hadn't been surprised when he found the nobleman in the Vigil's holding cell. Apparently Nathaniel had managed to sneak past several guards, and was able to take down four Grey Wardens without killing them. _All so he could assassinate the Warden Commander, me. _Realising he only wanted a few reminders of his family, Howe had been caught by the rest of the Keep's Wardens.

Hearing how Nathaniel had managed to infiltrate the Keep without seriously hurting anyone, and the skills he had picked up in his travels in the Free Marches convinced Aedan to conscript the nobleman. Perhaps it was the need for new Wardens, or perhaps to prove to himself that he would never be like Rendon that caused Aedan to make that decision, but he also knew that there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that hoped that Nathaniel would fail the Joining and die. The voice had been silenced when it was clear that Howe, for good or for ill, survived.

That little voice, that had haunted him since that final battle in Denerim.

That little voice, that was growing louder and louder each day.

That little voice that terrified Aedan because sometimes, he would welcome what it had to say in the dark of those sleepless nights.

A rustling behind him signalled that Nathaniel had returned from his hunt, a pair of bloodstained daggers in his hands, his quiver empty. The rogue's drakeskin armour was torn in places, a reward for his efforts. Both men probably had every right to hate the other, but a mutual respect was forming, both men complimenting the skill of the other. Despite the hatred Aedan felt for Rendon Howe, he was genuinely pleased to find that Nathaniel Howe was a better man then his father and that maybe there was hope left for that family. A slight nod between the two acknowledged that the deed had been done and that they could get back to the task at hand.

It was Anders who ended up breaking the silence as he took out a small vial of a light blue liquid and drank the contents. Though it was mainly water, a small amount of lyrium dust was poured into each vial, just enough to revitalise a mage without them running the risk of becoming addicted, or worse. There were tales of mages who drank too much lyrium, believing it would grant them more power in a battle, only to find the lyrium destroyed their minds, or even made them susceptible to possession. Either way, it lead to only one end, death. Thankfully, the Warden mage was just exhausted, though from the way he acted, the others would not have guessed.

"Ugh, I hate nature, all those wild animals, sends a shiver down my spine. Oh and the filth and the dirt, why would anyone choose to be here? It doesn't make sense!" He emphasized his point by swatting away a spider crawling up his robes.

"I rather quite like the woods, being out in the fresh air, reminds me of the Free Marches, and travelling around Kirkwall. It's peaceful." Nathaniel was searching the bodies of some Genlock archers, hoping to find some useable arrows, at times retrieving some of his own arrows that had not been ruined in the fighting. Satisfied he had enough, Nathaniel rejoined his fellow Wardens to decide their next move.

Realising he was never going to win this argument, Anders raised his hands and got up, brushing the dirt from his robes. "What you call peaceful, I call disgusting."

"So I'm guessing we're going to try and find that elf, right Commander? Tell her the mistake she's made. We have to try and stop all this senseless death." It was the first time Aedan had heard Anders sound so sincere, normally he acted like a jester, fooling around, enjoying being free. Now all he could see was someone unable to comprehend how a tragedy like this could happen, despite all his bravado, Anders was still like a child, not quite prepared for the real world. _All the humour, the joking, the sarcasm, it doesn't matter, because in the end, all we have left are the sins we've committed. Like a shadow that always follows us, our sins are the only things that remain._

"You're right, Anders. You said something about searching the Dalish camp, that might be out best chance. Let's go."

Wrenching his axe free from a Hurlock's chest, Oghren watched as Aedan walk up the forest path with Anders following him, before taking the small flask from inside his armour, downing some of the fiery liquid. The spirit burned as it passed down his throat, but it felt good, unlike the thought now running through his mind. As if sensing what he was thinking, Nathaniel sheathed his daggers and turned to the Dwarf.

"Something wrong Oghren? Usually, you would have spouted some alcohol fuelled joke, or insulted Anders by now."

It took a moment for Oghren to realise that someone was speaking to him, and confused, corked the flask, placing it back into his armour "What? No you can't have any."

"Oghren, you weren't listening, I asked you if something was wrong. You've been watching the Commander like a hawk. So, what is wrong Oghren?" Nathaniel grew more and more concerned as he waited for the dwarf to respond.

"Just do me a favour, and keep an eye on the boss will ya? When we get back to the keep and I have a chance to think, I'll tell ya. Now come on you blighter, the boss and little-miss-sparkle-fingers are probably waiting for us!" Throwing his axe back into its place, Oghren ran after the Wardens, Nathaniel right behind him.

All the while, the Wardens were unaware they were being watched, by a pair of pale blue eyes. Red lips curled into a smile as a plan was beginning to take effect.

The sun hung lower in the sky, the day ending. If nothing else, the encampment would offer them some shelter until the morning when they could resume the search. The alcohol now getting to his head, Oghren had begun to feel like his old self and had started trying to rile the others. When that failed he started trying to do some impressions, only to fail miserably at the Dwarf impression, a fact Nathaniel and Anders found hilarious. Even Aedan had managed a thin smile at his friend's antics.

Staring at a tree Oghren shouted at the others, "Hey, look at me, I'm an elf. Trees are pretty. Tra-la-la."

A sound like thunder filled the air as the cliff above them rumbled, the ground exploding in a mass of stone and dust, showering the Wardens below in dirt. As the dust settled, Aedan and the others saw the source, writhing tentacles peeling away to reveal the elven mage they had been searching for. Again, sparks of flame crackled around her, now matching the rage in her eyes. There was no escaping it, there was going to be a fight. Oghren gulped and pointed at Anders, "He said it!"

The elf pointed at the party, screaming now. "I told you to leave this place! You killed my friends and the merchants took my sister, they have brought this on themselves, just as you have!"

Light now coursed around her body as magical energy lifted her into the air. An incantation escaped her lips before the light exploded. At first it seemed as if nothing had happened until the Wardens heard a groaning sound, like someone waking from a deep slumber. Aedan looked up and dove away from a crashing branch, just before it hit him. Rolling away from the branch, he thought that the elf had cast a lightning spell, only to see he was wrong. Looking around for where the branch fell from, Aedan found himself staring at a tree, no, a sylvan, and it was about to strike at him.

Ducking below the tree's branch, Aedan withdrew the sword and swung at it's body, doing little damage. He could hear Ander and Oghren being attacked, and the howl of wolves, rapidly approaching, it seemed the elf did more then bring a pair of sylvans to life. Risking a look he could see Nathaniel readying his bow and aiming for the wolves. Each arrow found its mark and a wolf was brought down. The arm swung at him again, he rolled again, Aedan knew there was no way he could block a blow like that, the sheer weight behind it would snap his arm. All he could do was avoid it and hope it won't connect, the plate armour would never protect him.

A small explosion of ice staggered the sylvan, allowing Aedan the chance to get in closer to it, the Keening blade singing as he hacked into the trunk of the sylvan, the creature roaring in pain as the icy blade bit deep. He heard the dull thud of arrows impacting the bark of the sylvan's body, Nathaniel seemingly finished with the wolves and had begun to fire on the sylvan. A crack of thunder and the crashing sound of a tree told Aedan that Anders had dealt with his enemy, Oghren swearing bloody murder at both the mage and the now burning tree. He was too distracted to notice the arm swinging towards him, Aedan tried to avoid the blow, but he was too late, the limb managing to catch his armour, knocking the commander to the ground. Pain wracked his body as unconscious overtook him.

He felt himself floating. Bloodshot yes opened and to see a world in darkness, all that could be seen was an inky blackness. He tried to move, but felt something holding him back. He tried to speak, but no sound could be heard, nothing to give voice to. A single thought began to set in and with it, a single question. _Am I dead? _

The sound of footsteps from behind caught his attention, the heavy iron steps ringing clear in Aedan's ears. With each step, his body turned slightly, to greet this new person, whoever it might be. Even in the darkness, he could see an outline, a man, if it could be called that, walked towards him in heavy plate armour. As the man moved closer and closer, Aedan could make out more details, the armour ornate, a wolf's head engraved on the breastplate, wolves rampant covered the greaves and vambraces. The only part he could not see clearly was the face, hidden in shadows.

Eventually the man stopped, standing an arm's length away from Aedan. Even this close, he could not see the man's face, but somehow the presence felt familiar, like someone he knew in a past life. Suddenly an arm grabbed his throat and started to squeeze the life out of Aedan. There was nothing he could do to stop it, his body was weak, unable to defend himself.

All Aedan heard was a raspy voice asking him a question, before throwing the Warden to ground, and back to reality.

**"Why are you still alive?"**

"Hey Commander, wake up. Commander! Get up you thunderhumping duster!" Oghren was throttling his friend to try and wake him up. He had seen the sylvan knock Aedan to the ground, and threw his axe at the living tree, distracting it while Anders cast a force shield on the Commander to protect him. With Aedan safe, Anders had cast a final spell at the sylvan, a bolt of lightning aimed at the axe embedded in its bark. It worked, the lightning killing the creature, burning it from the inside out, the heat of the lightning igniting the sap. With the current danger now over, the Wardens turned their attention to their Commander.

Aedan's eyes flickered open, his head swimming from the pain and the stench from Oghren. Questions flooded his mind, were they still in danger? What happened to the sylvans? How long was he unconscious? What had happened to him and who was that man? And why was Oghren hitting him? Raising his hand, he pushed the dwarf away, and found it difficult to breathe. _Might be a cracked rib. Might be broken._

"I'm find Oghren, just knocked me down. If we're done here, we need to find that elf."

The dwarf nodded and helped the Commander to his feet. "Right boss, let's get cracking some heads."

Ander's theory about the encampment was correct, the Wardens had found the elf, alone, on her knees and exhausted. Aedan motioned the others to stay back, that close together it would only take one spell to kill them and he wouldn't risk their lives like that. Pain flared in his lungs as he breathed, with each step it became more difficult for him to focus. They didn't have time for Anders to heal him, he'd just have to grit his teeth and bear the pain.

The elf was turned away as Aedan approached, her breath coming in ragged bursts, the effort of summoning the sylvans taking their toll. "Leave me be, with my people."

"You know what you did was wrong." It was getting harder for him to stand. _Definitely a broken rib, might be more then one._

Her back was still turned towards the Warden, her head slumped as she faced a row of stone mounds, each with a single sapling marking the grave of a dead Dalish elf. "I will not stand before a shemlen magistrate to be judged. If you wish to kill me, then do so, kill me like your kind killed my clan! I have nothing left here anyway, the merchants have my sister."

"The humans didn't attack your clan, they were ambushed and massacred. The Darkspawn used their weapons and attacked your clan. Why else would they leave the weapons behind? Why they would wish to do this I don't know, but I intend to find out." His lungs felt as if they were on fire, his vision started to blur. _I can't stop yet. I need to find out where they could be. _

The elf had stood up, turning to look him in the eye. She was furious, but her mind was trying to make sense of what Aedan had told her. "What proof do you have of this?"

It took a tremendous effort to reach for the pouch and withdrew the pendant and hand it to the young woman without collapsing in agony, but he did it. The look on her face made it clear that she recognised the charm. "How? Where did you find this? This belonged to my sister! I demand you tell me where you found it!"

"I found it on the leader of a party of Darkspawn in the forest. It seems they were the ones who took your sister."

The elf could barely comprehend what she was hearing, the look in her eyes told him that a thousand questions were racing in her mind, but he already knew what she was going to ask. "Why would they take her?"

He blinked, harder and faster, trying to ignore the pain, difficult as it was. "Sometimes, they take female prisoners to their lairs, to make them into Broodmothers. We need to find somewhere underground, to find them and your sister."

"There is an entrance to a mine nearby, but why would you want to find Seranni?"

He sighed. "I won't leave anyone in the hands of those creatures."

Determination was set on the elf's face. "I will go with you. You can call me Velanna if you must. The mine is near the mountain to the south."

Oghren groaned and shrugged his shoulders as Velanna walked by. "Ugh, great! Another twitchy magic user. This is going to be fun!"

They had met no resistance as they entered the mine, though the tracks leading to and from the mine confirmed their suspicions that the Darkspawn had made their lair here. By now the sun had set and had left the forest and mine in darkness, the only illumination the party now had were the torches Aedan had handed to Nathaniel and Oghren, flickering fire casting living shadows as they walked down a broken staircase. Whoever had worked this mine had left in a hurry, leaving much of their equipment to rot and rust.

As they reached the end of the stairs, Aedan had taken a torch and moved to the centre of the carved chamber, crystals embedded in the walls and ceiling catching the light of the torch and casting an eerie glow around the party and the chamber. It was only then Aedan noticed that the torch had been extinguished, as had Oghren's and Nathaniel's torches.. He looked down and saw a pattern glowing beneath his feet. The others had noticed and tried to escape, but the glyph below them prevented the from moving, they were trapped.

Heavy footfalls above them warned them that their captor was approaching. Soon, a Darkspawn had appeared on a ledge above them, a dwarven woman by his side, even in the low light of the chamber, Aedan could see she was suffering from the Darkspawn corruption, open sores covering her face. But it was the Darkspawn he focussed on, it was taller then other Hurlocks, lither too, it's arms thin and heavily scarred. Much of the creature's face was covered by a mask, that almost looked as though it was Orlesian in design, a trophy of a previous victim perhaps. The Darkspawn raised its arm and whispered a single word before disappearing into the shadows.

"Sleep."

The light beneath the Wardens intensified, draining their strength, tiring them with each second. Aedan struggled to keep his eyes open, but the magic was too powerful, and soon he fell to his knees, the world becoming darker and darker, and a sense of floating came rushing back towards him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Helpless"

_Maker's breath, why do they need such a large fire in the height of summer?_ The library seemed empty, save for his own thoughts, and the low, heavy breathing from Beast, asleep in the corner. Behind him, the fire roared, oak and apple wood slowly being devoured by the flames. Fergus breathed in, taking in the scents of apple wood, mixed with the smoky flavour of the oak, and was taken back to the days of when he and Aedan were young boys growing up in Castle Highever. Every Seventh Day, Mother Mallol would burn incense, marking the start of morning services, and naturally as Andrasteans, Fergus and Aedan would have to attend the service with their parents in the castle's small chapel.

Neither boy was especially religious growing up, even less so now, often finding the sermons and Chant of Light boring, the chapel walls cramped and confining. Sometimes, Fergus or Aedan would begin to fall asleep during the services, only to be woken by Bryce's hand gently clipping the back of their heads, which was ironic when both boys could see their father was as bored as they were. Their mother would cast a disapproving look at the three, never once faltering in her prayer. The young Teyrn could see it with his own son, Oren, in the chapel, the boy's head nodding slightly, a gentle tap waking him up. _Except those days are gone._ Fergus brought his hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose before the tears arrived. Beast awoke, and seeing Fergus, let out a plaintive whine, joining the Teyrn in grief for the lost child.

The door opened, and a young girl walked in, looking at Fergus, only to realise she had forgotten to bow before him. She was elven, with blonde hair to her shoulders, her skin almost white and eyes blue like the Waking Sea. There was something strangely familiar about the child, and for the life of him, Fergus was unable to remember her. With a trembling voice, the child spoke, straining to remember exactly what had been told to her.

"My…. My apologies for keeping you waiting, your Grace. The King had matters of state to attend to, though he sent me to find you as soon as he was done."

_Maker bless her, the poor girl is terrified. I know that many of the staff were killed or injured during the Blight, but are they that desperate to bring in children? _Seeing the child was trying to avoid his stare, Fergus tried to put her at ease, and returned an overly extravagant courtesy, and was rewarded with a giggle. Bending down to one knee he looked at the child, and in a gentle voice, spoke to her.

"Thank you for letting me know. So, shall we go to the King then? Lead the way, my lady."

The child nodded, and waited for the Teyrn to tell the Mabari to stay by the fire, before leading him through the corridors and halls of the royal palace. He was sure the child had gotten lost at least once, but said nothing. Most likely this had been the first task she had been given and though Fergus knew the way to the throne room, he did not wish to upset the child by showing she was wrong.

Before long, Fergus was led to the throne room, the guards standing to attention as the Teyrn of Highever strode into the hall, the slight clinking of armoured gloves being raised to chests in respect and the shuffle of feet as the guards stood taller sounded as Fergus walked past each one as he approached the dais. As the child turned to leave, Fergus gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and knelt before her, looking into her sea blue eyes.

"Tell me child, what is your name?"

The young elven girl smiled, a perfect little smile, only marred by a single missing tooth, which was well on the way to being replaced.

"It's Amethyne, my lord. I must leave before the chamberlain comes looking for me. Goodbye your Grace."

Two men were on top of the stone steps, deep in conversation, and both men Fergus recognised. Sitting on the throne, in gilded armour, was Alistair Theirin, former Grey Warden and now, the new King of Ferelden. With him stood an older man, his back turned to Fergus, but he knew who it was, from the proud way he held himself, his hair, tied back and long since turned grey. Arl Eamon Guerrin was in Denerim.

It was Alistair who the first to notice Fergus approach, smiling that there was someone here to break the monotony of the day. The smile soon disappeared as he saw the concern on the Teyrn's face. Eamon turned, and bowed, his head kept low until Fergus returned the gesture. Fergus in turn bowed to Alistair, who was visibly uncomfortable with the pomp and procedure.

"Fergus, you don't have to do that. And welcome, it's a pleasure to host the Teyrn of Highever here. Thank you for coming, I was hoping my message had gotten through. You'd think that with the roads being rebuilt, word would easier to get around the country."

Eamon interjected, cutting off Alistair before he started to ramble.

"Welcome Teyrn Cousland, thank goodness you've arrived, we were just discussing the need for rebuilding the main keeps in Ferelden, I trust that the repairs to Castle Highever are almost complete."

Eamon had begun to drone on and on, about economic matters, rebuilding, the possibility of raising taxes. Fergus could feel his eyes getting heavier and heavier as Eamon went on about matters Fergus had no clue about. He could see why Alistair looked bored.

_Father always said, "You don't have to like Arl Eamon, but you do have to respect him." I've just walked in and he's already talking business. I know he did a lot for the country during the war, but Maker help me, how did Father and Arl Bryland ever put up with him at the Landsmeet? _Fergus made his move, and interrupted the Arl, raising his hands in an apologetic manner while he spoke.

"Excuse me Eamon, but yes, Castle Highever is almost rebuilt, our army is also close to completion, our tithes will soon be on their way. But Alistair's message sounded important, and I would like to discuss that with him. I'd also like to see my brother, I've haven't seen him for nearly two months."

Neither man answered for a moment, more surprised about the Teyrn's question then anything else. Alistair looked at Eamon, unsure what to say. In the end, it was Eamon who answered.

"The Warden Commander is in Amaranthine. We thought you knew?"

Confused, Fergus' mind kept going over what he had been told. Eventually his asked, his voice stumbling. "What do you mean he is in Amaranthine? And why are you calling him the Warden Commander?"

"Two months ago, a Commander of the Grey from Orlais arrived here in Denerim with orders from Weisshaupt and the First Warden. With the end of the Blight, there is a need to rebuild the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden. They feel that rather than bringing in an Orlesian Commander, which people might resent, a native Ferelden might serve better, and that meant Aedan."

Alistair had now stood up from the throne, talking to Fergus as he walked towards him. Immediately he could see the Teyrn was furious. Alistair had heard from other nobles that Fergus had been the calmer of Bryce's sons, quick to laugh, slow to anger, often the first to soothe tempers before they became disputes, qualities that endeared him to the nobility. Unfortunately, those qualities were gone, now replaced by a man's concern for his only living family.

Clenching his fists and composing himself, Fergus stared Alistair in the eyes and slowly and quietly spoke. The intensity sent a shiver up Alistair's spine.

"Why am I only being told of this now? And why Aedan? Hasn't he done enough for Ferelden and the Wardens, why are you letting him go back on his own?"

"The Warden Commander will be alright, he has only to rebuild the Wardens and deal with the remnants of the Darkspawn horde, we have a country to rebuild." Arl Eamon had stepped in, to try and calm the Teyrn, and immediately regretted what he said.

Fergus rounded on him and almost grabbed the Arl's lapels, stopping himself at the last moment. Several of the guards had begun to move towards the three men, only for Alistair to raise his hand, motioning for them to leave the room.

"My father said you were many things, Eamon! A man of trust and of worth. He never said anything about you being naïve! The Darkspawn did more to hurt this land in one year then Orlais did in eighty! Its only because of Alistair and my brother that there is still a Ferelden to rebuild! Have you even see the lands tainted by those bastards? Crops won't grow there, possibly for years, though more likely, nothing will ever grow there again, people are homeless, starving, in some cases dying of the taint and you're talking about raising taxes! Maker! What is wrong with you?"

Fergus was nearly shouting at Eamon now, Alistair felt his own anger rising, at Fergus, Eamon and himself. Fists were going to fly in a moment and he was sure blood was going to be spilt soon. Alistair pushed himself between the two men.

"Fergus, my apologies. I thought Aedan had sent word before he left. Eamon, will you please give us a few moments, I wish to speak with the Teyrn in private."

Shaken, the Arl collected himself, bowed towards Alistair and left the chamber, leaving the King and the Teyrn alone. Holding his head in his hand, Alistair sighed and started rubbing his temples. He directed Fergus to the small table, pouring two goblets of water for the both of them.

"I am sorry, Eamon doesn't really understand the Grey Wardens, and how much of a threat the Darkspawn are, even though he did see it firsthand. And I am sorry about Aedan. I assumed that he had sent word to you before making the journey to Vigil's Keep. Had there been any other option, I wouldn't have let him go. How was he before he left Highever?

Fergus just stared at the goblet. It was simple, practical, like everything else made in Ferelden. It had been made from local red clay, shaped, then fired in a kiln. He knew he couldn't answer while this angry, Fergus focussing on the goblet, his gauntleted hand gripping harder and harder until the cup exploded into a mist of earthenware and water droplets. As the remains fell to the ground, he could feel the anger ebb away. A hollow voice spoke out.

"In the four months he was home, he didn't sleep much, at least not without having nightmares. On a couple of occasions I've seen him train, only to stop, frozen to the spot, looking terrified. His temper has gotten worse, lashing out at people. I think that concerned him, as he took to keeping away from everyone. Aedan rarely spoke, and he won't talk about them, our family. I know he blames himself for what happened, and its affecting him. I want to help him, but I have no idea what to do."

It was all Alistair could do to nod. Fergus was right, in the brief time Aedan had been in Denerim before he travelled to Amaranthine, Alistair could barely recognise his friend anymore. Gone was the man with the near permanent smile, a witty or sarcastic barb at the ready or a friendly ear to lend, who looked good effortlessly, much to Alistair's and Zevran's annoyance. All that was there was a shadow of the man he once knew. His hair was dirty and unkempt, and even though he had recently shaved, it was sloppily done, rough in places. Aedan hadn't spoken much, except during the meeting with Savine, and even then he was laconic. The only redeeming features Alistair had seen was the same look of determination and stubbornness that had almost defined Aedan during the Blight.

It wasn't much, but it had given Alistair hope. Draining the contents of the goblin, the King decided not to tell Fergus about the assault on Vigil's Keep by the Darkspawn. _He has enough to worry about… I won't add to it._

"I should let you know that Aedan won't be alone in Amaranthine. You remember Oghren? He had heard about Savine arriving, and that they were going to ask Aedan to be the Warden Commander. So, he promised to join the Grey Wardens to keep an eye on Aedan. He may have had another reason for wanting to go, but I know him well enough, he wants to help Aedan and that's enough for me."

Fergus was silent as he tried to remember Oghren, and to take in what Alistair had said. _Maybe this will help Aedan, I really hope so. I can't lose him. _

"Oghren… Was he the Dwarf that kept challenging Bann Teagan to drink barrels of pickle juice at the coronation? Seemed like a decent sort. I honestly hope he can help. I guess its out of our hands now."

"Yes, he was. He won too. Drank four barrels dry, and then passed out. Bann Teagan slipped away before Oghren made him pay that bet. Fergus, there was a reason I called you to Denerim. Arl Eamon has been an immense help, in rebuilding the kingdom and helping me settle in as King, but I think I need an advisor. Eamon is like a father to me, but I think he is trying to make me into my father. I need someone to… I don't know… advise me about Eamon. As the only other member of the nobility I know and trust, I was wondering if you'd be Chancellor, Fergus? Someone to provide another point of view."

Fergus was taken aback by the offer, he had only begun to get used to being the Teyrn of Highever and now he was being asked to be the Chancellor of Ferelden as well. If anything ever happened to Alistair that would effectively make him King. It was almost too much for him to take in. A question, mixed with disbelief, stammered from him now.

"Why me? I've barely figured out how to run a teyrnir. Wouldn't someone else be a better choice? I'd almost suggest Aedan, even in the state he's in."

"Like I said Fergus, of all the noble families, I trust you, maybe more than Eamon or Teagan. I'd rather have someone with me who had Ferelden's best interests at heart. Eamon is a good man, but I'm sure he has an agenda. You don't have to answer now, but please think about it?"

"Alistair, did you at least ask Aedan before you came to me, during the coronation? He deserves that, if… no… when he recovers. Both of you have done so much, I don't want him to be forgotten."

Alistair nodded, refilling the goblet and speaking as he handed another to Fergus.

"I asked him, and he flat out refused. I would have tried to convince him, but you of all people should know what your brother is like."

Fergus drained the water, and stood silent, before answering, his shoulders slumping low, a pained, sad look in his eyes.

"That's just it Alistair. I don't know him anymore."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Enemy Mine"

White light flooded his vision, blinding him while his eyes attempted to focus. The world was still a haze as Aedan tried to look around, to try and figure out where he was, only to find some force holding him down, pinning him to what felt like a stone slab. All he could remember was a trap… no, a spell, paralysing him and the others, after that, he did not know. The dragon plate armour and weapons Aedan carried had been taken, leaving him with the wool padding he wore under the armour. It was then Aedan could feel a presence behind him, slowly moving around, as if studying him. A hand rested on his shoulder, and with it came a voice, raspy, laboured, as if the speaker found it difficult to breathe, and ancient, like it's end was coming.

"So you are the Commander of the Grey Wardens. Do not be frightened, your injuries have been tended to." The voice paused, trying to catch it breath. When it seemed to recover, the voice continued, "I apologise for what I must do, I do not wish to be your enemy."

Movement in the corner of his eye signalled the voice was moving, accompanied by the sound of cloth, trailing behind on rough stone. The heavy footfalls of armour told Aedan there was someone else in the room, though he had no idea whom it could be. He could see the owner of the voice now, the same creature that had trapped him and the others as they entered the Silverite mines. It was a Darkspawn, that much was certain, though it wasn't like any Emissary or Alpha he had ever seen. It looked… frailer then other Darkspawn, it's arms thin, like its body, the muscles long since atrophied by a lack of use. Leather belts made up most of its robes, more to support it's body then to provide protection.

The Darkspawn's head was deformed, cartilaginous growths protruded from it's skull, lengthening the head to an unnatural height. But strangest of all was the ornate mask the creature wore, it looked like something an Orlesian noble would wear to a ball or to a masquerade. The mask covered much of it's face, leaving the eyes completely hidden from view, but had failed to cover the mess of scars that trailed the Darkspawn's face. Aedan tried to move again, straining against whatever was holding him, but failed, falling back on the slab, the paralysing effect of whatever spell had been cast was still strong.

The creature kept watching him, and almost smiled, before raising it's hand, resting it on Aedan's chest, now wheezing. "But now is not the time for this. Rest."

Aedan kept struggling, only to feel himself drifting away from a world of light, back to the shadows and nightmares.

Velanna had been the first to be placed in the cell. As she stirred on the cold stone, the elf looked around for the Wardens, and found she was alone, her staff taken as well as much of her possessions, including Seranni's pendant. Anger bubbled in her mind as she remembered being trapped by a strange creature. _Does he have Seranni? Creators I'll tear him apart if he has hurt her!_

The elf pushed herself to her feet, almost stumbling as she did, reaching out to steady herself. Rusted metal greeted her hand, tearing through the slink leather gloves and slicing the skin underneath. Swearing, Velanna pulled away and looked at her hand, though even in the poor light, the injury was minor. She was no healer, but she knew enough to fix the damage, a brief muttered incantation and a warmth spread over her hand, weaving the wound.

With her hand healed, Velanna looked at the source of the injury. Before her was the side of an old iron cage, now long since turned black, and pitted by age and the damp. An oaken door was the only way in or out of the cell, easy enough to destroy with the right spell. As the Keeper had taught her years before, Velanna took to a stance to cast a spell, the loose dirt around her moved, collected, compacted and hardened, slowly forming into a fist. Just as Velanna was about to send the stone fist towards the door, her concentration broke, a loud buzzing distracting her. Again she tried to cast the spell, only to be foiled by the buzzing. _So someone wishes me to stay here. I will not be kept caged like an animal!_

The sound of a door opening drew Velanna's attention away from her spell, as several large Darkspawn walked in, carrying two of the Grey Wardens, the mage and the dwarf from what she could see. Their equipment had been taken, now they were dressed in old clothes, probably belonging to the miners who had worked the veins here. The Wardens were unconscious, and both had crudely wrapped bandages around their arms, blood seeping from the wounds underneath.

As they approached the cell door, two of the Darkspawn raised crossbows at Velanna, the intent clear, if she moved, she'd die. The door was opened and the mage and dwarf thrown in. Satisfied their work was done, the Darkspawn left their captives alone. Velanna looked at the Wardens and realising she'd never make it out of the mines without them, moved to help them, kneeling by the mage first. Bar a few scrapes and bruises, he seemed fine, if not a little pale. Velanna gingerly pulled back the bandage, finding deep lacerations around the wrist. Thankfully none of the major vessels had been cut, or the mage would have died long before reaching the cell.

Casting the same spell as she had used herself, Velanna made sure the blond mage was alright before checking on the dwarf. She immediately regretted it. The dwarf stank, stale alcohol and rotted food permeated the air around him. Keeping as far back as she could, Velanna examined the dwarf, her nose crinkling in disgust. He had suffered the same injuries as the mage, deep lacerations on his arm. _Why would the Darkspawn do this? Am I next?_

She had finished casting the spell on the dwarf when the doors opened again, the same Darkspawn carrying the other Wardens, the archer tossed over the shoulder of one of the creatures, while the leader was dragged by two of the large Darkspawn. Velanna could see from where she was that their arms had been cut and sliced into. Standing back from the cell door, Velanna could only watch as the Wardens were tossed into the cell. The buzzing was still in the back of her mind, leaving her unable to cast anything but the simplest spells. The archer was the first to stir, surprised as a warmth spread through his arm, looking around, he saw Velanna's arm stretched, and nodded his thanks before laying down on the stone.

"Are you alright?" The voice sounded weak, far away. It was the archer.

Velanna was surprised that the shemlen even cared, "Yes. I am fine, certainly better then you or your fellow Wardens. Do you know what happened to you?"

Nathaniel sat up, pausing as his head swam. He stared at his arm, puzzled. "I'm not quite sure, I think their leader took some of our blood. I can't be certain." Holding his head in his hand, Nathaniel looked around, and saw his fellow Grey Wardens. "What about them?"

Velanna shrugged as she looked over Aedan. "I think that spell will wear off soon enough and they'll wake up when their ready." It was curious, the other Wardens looked peaceful, as if in the middle of a dream, but even beneath his eyelids, his eyes were moving back and forth, his mouth twitching in time to a nightmare. _I wonder what you're dreaming of._

Ethereal tendrils of shadow wrapped around his arms, keeping him in place. Soon, the figure from before would begin to walk towards him. Again, Aedan knew he would be asked why he was still alive. Why did he keep seeking absolution? If he wished for death, why not just take his own life, instead of rushing into danger? And again, Aedan knew he could not answer those questions.

Faces raced past him, memories of death swirled around him, of the lives he had taken and that were taken from him. Hands reached out for him, tearing at him, voices screamed at the Warden accusingly, citing his failures, the suffering he had caused. And yet, one by one, the voices faded, the faces drew back, until all that was left was one little boy. A little boy, torn and blood stained, bright green eyes staring at Aedan through blood matted hair. Before him stood Oren, his nephew. The child began to speak, at first babbled and confused, the words disappearing before Aedan could hear them. Soon though, the voice became clearer, joined by more and more voices, to the point where they began to drown out Oren.

"Stop…yourself. You can't save….anyone. Stop…trying."

Oren raised his hand, reaching for his uncle. The voices grew louder, now screaming at him again, the hands about to tear at him again.

Aedan awoke with a start, causing Nathaniel to nearly fall back in fright. He winced as a dull pain rippled from his rib, although magic had repaired the break, it would still take several days for it to heal properly. Oghren walked over, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Aedan angrily brushed the dwarf's hand away before standing up, "I'm fine Oghren! What's happened?"

Though he didn't show it Oghren was shaken by how the Commander was acting, eventually replied. "We found the elf's sister, she's been tainted, got the sores and lesions, if you ask me, she's a ghoul." The dwarf cast his eyes downward at the prospect of what he was about to suggest. "We might have… ease her suffering."

"What? No! I…I won't allow it. We have to help Seranni!" The reply came from Velanna, pushing Oghren aside and looked at the Commander, holding up a small wrought iron key to his face. "She wants us to help her! Why else would she give me the key to escape?"

Aedan took the key and examined it. Immediately his mind asked why would she leave us the key? Is this yet another trap? And why hadn't the others escaped yet? Deciding it was better than waiting for the Darkspawn to return, Aedan walked to the door, and unlocked it. _No weapons, no armour and quite possibly a horde of Darkspawn before us. Great! Just like old times!_

Aedan looked back at the others, though tired they were ready to get out of there. "Let's go."

The first group of Darkspawn the party came across were killed before they knew they were being attacked. Anders had cast a freezing wind while Velanna launched a fireball into their midst, whatever that been affecting her in the cell was now long gone. Aedan and Oghren had gone in and ended the survivors with their own weapons. They found an assortment of daggers, a mace and sword, all of which were rusted, crudely made and murderously effective. Aedan handed the weapons to everyone, the mace to Oghren, the daggers to Nathaniel, Anders and Velanna. Aedan kept the sword for himself.

Despite the fact they were in what must have been a major Darkspawn lair, there were few of the fiends in the mines. Granted, they found several groups of Hurlocks and Genlocks, all killed relatively easily, the mages proving their worth again and again with spells of fire, ice, lightning and stone, but it was strange, the quality of the warriors here almost suggested that their captor wanted them to escape. The real danger had come from a number of Ghouls throughout the Silverite mines. They had armed themselves with the weapons and armour of the Grey Wardens, and had attacked them with what seemed like their own skills. Everyone seemed like a perverted mirror image of each Warden.

The first they came across had been wearing Oghren's suit of black armour, etched with dwarven symbols of death, the specially forged axe slung across it's back. Oghren roared a burst of obscenities to the ghoul before charging it, screaming about how it was going to die for touching his junk. Velanna summoned roots from the ground, pinning the creature, allowing Oghren to deliver a blow to the neck, killing it instantly. As the others pressed on, Oghren followed, buckling himself into the armour, while trying not to fall in the attempt.

An icicle narrowly missing Aedan's head signalled they had found another ghoul, dressed in rags, but armed with Ander's staff. A second ghoul, dressed in Nathaniel's clothes, stood with it, an arrow notched and ready to fire. Ander's reacted first, casting a shield over Aedan and Nathaniel, while Velanna sent a burst of fire from her hands, causing the two ghouls to dive away, separating them, allowing Aedan and Nathaniel to attack them. Nathaniel leapt towards the mage, his daggers swinging low, slicing through skin, muscle and tendons, crippling the creature at the knees. Rolling away, the rogue moved behind the now howling creature, and deftly slit it's throat with one swift move of a dagger.

Aedan barrelled into the archer, knocking it off it's feet. The Warden was the first back up, bringing his sword down on the ghoul, only to narrowly miss as the bow smacked into his hand, the sword tumbling to the stone floor. The ghoul then slammed the bow into Aedan's throat, pushing him away. The mages could do nothing, their target too close to the Commander, any spell would invariably hurt or even kill the Warden. The ghoul was now on Aedan, it's stinking hands wrapped around his throat, gibbering manically as it tried to strangle him. The combination of his injured rib, the damage to his throat and the weight of the ghoul on his chest was starting to cause Aedan to black out. Making his move, Aedan's hands reached up, just under the ghoul's chin and right behind it's head and gripped it hard. Before he lost consciousness, Aedan quickly moved his hands, twisting the ghoul's head, breaking it's neck. He could feel it's dead weight being pulled off him as air filled his lungs again. Hands grabbed Aedan from behind, helping to his feet as his coughed violently. Nodding his thanks to Anders and Velanna and waiting for Nathaniel to reequip himself, Aedan recovered the sword continued on his way. Oghren stumbled into the chamber, fixing his pauldron, puzzled what had just happened.

As they moved through the tunnel network, a groan drew Aedan's attention to a small alcove, where they found a human, one of the missing Grey Warden's from Vigil's Keep. Anders knelt beside the injured man, only to see his legs were broken and ruined. The mage was about to cast a spell when the Commander grabbed his hand, stopping him. Anders had begun to protest when Aedan cut him off. "Anders, look at him, he's at death's door. Don't prolong his suffering. Just ease his pain."

Anders nodded, and laid his hand on the man's head, a soft glow shimmered around his prone form as Anders spoke words of comfort. The dying Warden shifted his body, resting on his elbow. His breath was ragged, pained by the tortures inflicted on him, Aedan could see it took every last shred of the man's willpower to speak and leaned in to listen to the his last words, pulled in closer by the Warden. The others tried to hear what was being spoken, only to hear a death rattle, the hand on Aedan's shoulder going limp.

Velanna watched as the Commander slowly crossed the dead Warden's arms across his chest, whispering a prayer as he closed those now cold and glassy eyes. _Creators, how much time must we waste with this? Seranni is still here and we can save her. This shemlen's troubles are over!_

"Velanna, could you please burn his body?" The request shook her from her thoughts, the Commander now finished. "We can't take him with us, but we can at least make sure he finds a measure of peace."

"I am not a Grey Warden. Why should I care about what happens to his body?" Velanna saw the look in Aedan's eyes and remembered advice Ilshae, her Keeper gave her many years ago, Never look a bear in the eyes and threaten it. It seemed like common sense at the time, but now it was just so apt. The elf had seen the Commander fight, and even now, without any armour, he cut an imposing figure. His hair was wild, unshaven for several days, and those green eyes that stared at her with an animal brutality. Had she not known better, Velanna would have thought him a demon of the forest, though that opinion changed more and more they remained in the mines.

Fire crackled around her hands in preparation of what was asked of her, there was no need for her to reply. As the flame surrounded the Warden's body, turning white with the heat, Grey Wardens nodded their respect to their fallen brother, and left his remains to cremate.

As they walked away, Anders spoke, struggling to prevent his voice from breaking. "We didn't even know his name. How sad is that? To die amongst a group of strangers and for none of them to know your name. That's not right at all."

With the others gone, Aedan took one last look at what remained of the fallen Grey Warden. "Farewell Keenan. I'll find her."

The final ghoul had learned from it's fellows, launching an ambush on the party as they picked their way through the tunnels, sending packs of Darkspawn to wear down the Wardens. The cramped walls of the tunnels made the combat even more brutal, the black blood of the Darkspawn making it difficult to keep a steady footing. Bolts of lightning flew overhead as Hurlocks petrified, before being smashed apart by Oghren. Nathaniel was picking off lone Darkspawn, archers and crude assassins, slaying them before they could make their move. A large Hurlock had begun to charge at Velanna and Anders, a brutal hammer raised above its head. Nathaniel strung an arrow, pulling back as far he could before letting loose and slaying the creature as the arrow slammed into it's throat.

Aedan had decapitated a Genlock when he saw his counterpart. The ghoul looked even more despicable then the others they had fought, much of it's face now rotted away thanks to the corruption coursing through it's veins. His dragon bone plate armour hung loosely on it's body, time and abuse having destroyed what little muscle had remained. It was armed with the Keening Blade, the axe Veshaille nowhere to be seen, though that seemed to be an advantage. The creature could barely hold onto the sword as it swung clumsily, Aedan avoiding it with ease. As the ghoul made for an overhand swing, Aedan raised the Darkspawn blade to counter, blocking the blow, only for the blade to shatter, the icy blade biting deep into his shoulder. Aedan roared in pain and kicked out, catch the ghoul at it's knee and driving it down, bringing the broken blade down it's neck, ending it's torment and it's life.

With the battle over, Anders had tended to the others wounds, Aedan's shoulder being the worst. The mage had been surprised to see the Commander searching the ghoul's remains for something, at first frantic, then furious. He had been almost been shocked to see Aedan almost smiling as he stopped searching. It was curious, that the Commander would get so worked up over a small ring. It didn't even look valuable, just a small wooden ring. With the ring now firmly back where it belonged, Aedan proceeded to reclaiming his armour, wincing in pain as he tightened the pauldron on his injured shoulder. _Maybe I should ask Oghren about that ring when we get back to the Vigil._

As he fasted the sword sheath to his back, Aedan walked over to the large Hurlock Nathaniel had killed, the smell of dragon waste assaulting him each step he took near the creature. Rummaging through it's belt pouches Aedan found the last request Keenan had made, a ring, simple and made from silver, the word "Beloved" engraved on the inner banding. Satisfied, Aedan secured the ring onto his belt, and summoned the others for the last part of their escape.

The Darkspawn had heard her before she had even entered the room, still intent on reading the tome laid before him. He knew the news she was bringing to him, it was no surprise considering the reputation of the Grey Wardens, still, this was still important.

The Architect turned and nodded to his companion. Utha had been with him for twenty years, a faithful aide in his research, and though her blood was no longer useful for his experiment, he had formed an attachment with the dwarf. It had taken some time for him to learn the hand language, but learned he had, fascinated that the woman had chosen to cut her own tongue out, though he could not understand why.

Utha's hand were rapidly moving, the signs clear in the gloomy of the chamber. The Architect knew exactly what it mean. "Yes Utha, I know the Grey Wardens have escaped. I am finished with them for now, and they are needed elsewhere. We could not keep them here indefinitely, now with her forces growing. I am sure they will help us in the end." He stopped, his breath now ragged. The Darkspawn waved his hand towards four vials on a table behind him, all filled with a dark red liquid, Grey Warden blood. "I have what I needed from them. But if you insist, you may try to delay them. I doubt very much we will be able to stop them now. You may summon the thralls."

The tunnel opened up to a vast antechamber, now like the rest of the mines, falling apart and dangerous. Oghren had led the way while Anders had cast yet another spell on Aedan to repair the injury to his shoulder. Though the damage was not permanent, it would leave a jagged scar pointing towards the Commander's heart. Nathaniel had kept alert, searching for any signs of another Darkspawn ambush.

They could sense him before they could see him, Velanna confused as the Wardens prepared for an attack. To their left, high above them was their captor, with him stood a dwarf and an elven woman, both infected with the taint. Velanna called to her sister, only to be heartbroken as Seranni walked away, ignoring her sister's cries to her. The Darkspawn waved his hand to the ceiling, answered by the beating of leathery wings, and a cry like thunder.

The two dragons landed before the party, causing the chamber to shake with the impact. They were young, barely fifty years old, their wings fully formed. Serpentine heads hunted for their next meal, sounding almost pleased to find such delicious morsels before them.

Aedan and Anders charged the furthermost dragon, as Oghren directed Velanna and Nathaniel to attack the nearer beast. The dwarf threw his axe at the dragon, the weapon slicing into it's wing. Nathaniel fired arrow after arrow at the dragon's body, more bouncing harmlessly off it's skin then those that had hit their mark. Velanna hurled a stone fire at it's face, blinding it temporarily as Oghren retrieved his axe, swing at a scaly leg. The dragon screamed as the axe hit bone, it's head pulling back as it prepared to spew fire on the source of it's pain. An arrow slammed into the soft skin of it's throat, preventing it from killing Oghren. Blood now streamed down it's neck, as it futilely tried to bite at Oghren. It was dying and trying to take someone with it. Tearing the axe away from it's leg, Oghren pushed himself to his feet, and stood over the dragon's head. "Heh, call yerself a dragon? I'd call you lunch if we had time!" With that Oghren brought the axe down, severing the dragon's head from it's neck.

As Oghren and the others fought their dragon, Anders and Aedan were trying to avoid the snapping jaws of its sister. Anders had frozen it's wings, preventing it from flying away, while Aedan had positioned himself along its flank, the Keening Blade darting in, slicing at the dragon, the wounds freezing as he pulled away. It would swing at him with it's tail, Aedan rolling away, the pain in his shoulder still strong, but he ignored, now focussed on the dragon. It was after the dragon had slumped to the ground that Anders had made a near fatal mistake, believing the beast dead. With a start, the dragon rushed towards the mage. Anders had barely time to register the attack before Aedan pushed him out of the way, the dragon slamming into the Commander instead, pinning him to the ground.

The dragon's breath felt hotter with each second as it stared at Aedan, Anders was down and the others were still fighting their dragon. An ominous glow emanated from the dragon's throat, signalling Aedan was out of time. His hand free, still carrying his sword, Aedan thrust the blade into the dragon's mouth, steam hissing as the ice and fire reacted, burning the dragon as Aedan drove the blade deeper and deeper, his own armour protecting him. With a pathetic effort to right itself, the dragon died, trapping Aedan underneath it's limp form. As Oghren pulled the dragon away, Aedan could see the Darkspawn had gone, the two ghouls with it, gone.

Velanna was distraught, screaming for her sister. Aedan snapped at her, grabbing Velanna and shaking her. "Pull yourself together! You're no use to anyone like this!"

"You're right. But I have to help Seranni." Velanna was almost on the verge of tears, her sister seemingly lost to her. Tears which were soon replaced by resolve. "They say that Grey Wardens can sense Darkspawn even deep beneath the ground. I beg you, give me that power and I will pledge myself to your Order. I have to save Seranni!"

Aedan looked at her, and saw something of himself in the elf, searching for a family they no longer were sure they had. His voice grew softer. "You know that that Joining might kill you?"

It was Velanna's turn to snap. "I don't care about death. Will you let me join or not?"

As Nathaniel helped him to his feet, Anders chimed in before falling into his fellow Warden's arms. "At the very least, it's difficult for you to get the taste out of your mouth for a few hours."

Ignoring him, Aedan looked at Velanna. "Very well Velanna, I offer you a place in the Grey Wardens, join us."

"I accept."

Aedan nodded and walked away, the others following him. Steadying himself, Anders looked around before running after the others. "Does this mean we're leaving the forest? Oh thank the Maker!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"A Promise Kept"

Amaranthine, the jewel of the North. It had once been the Orlesian capital of Ferelden when the country had been occupied by the Orlesians, nearly an Age ago. Before that time, it had been a minor fishing village, the naturally deep waters of the Waking Sea made sure those living by it's shores were amply fed, the few foreign ships that ever made port there had chosen to do so to make repairs or to restock their supplies for a voyage home, few of the "civilised" nations of Thedas wished to trade with the Ferelden barbarians, after all, what could a backwater nation provide that the likes of Tevinter or Orlais could not create themselves, and to a better quality?

That had all changed when Orlais invaded Ferelden. When Amaranthine was captured, the Orlesians had quickly built temporary docks, allowing legions of chevalier to enter Ferelden. In less then a decade, Amaranthine went from a small fishing village to one of the most important ports in Eastern Thedas, the banns of the city growing wealthy and fat as Ferelden was bled dry by the Orlesians. When the occupation ended, the Orlesians had attempted to sack the city as they escaped, only to find the city they had built was too sturdy, leaving the city unscarred. Now the city stood as proud as it did when it was liberated over thirty years ago.

It had been five years since Aedan had been in the city, when he had returned home from Nevarra, his knightly training over. Aedan remembered stepping off the ship that warm spring day, the sea wind cool against his skin, the sun peaking over the walls of the city. So much had happened to him during his time in Nevarra, but he was on his way home then, the future had seeming so bright, so full of promise. Five years later, he had learned better, all that had waited for him were shadows and death.

The heavy chain mail he wore felt strange, so light compared to the dragon bone plate armour Aedan had worn for the past few months. The armour which was being repaired as he and the others made their way to Amaranthine. Master Wade had nearly cried at the sight of the damage done to his greatest creation, insisting on repairing it there and then. Unfortunately there had been little other armour that could fit Aedan, the heavy chain mail too ornate for his liking, but like every thing made in Ferelden, it was practical, and that was all he cared about.

"They used to display the heads of traitors over that gate. I suppose my father was lucky his didn't end up there."

Anders had looked at Nathaniel, a witty barb ready, but seeing at his fellow Grey Warden, decided against it. He knew very little of the circumstances surrounding Rendon Howe's death during the Blight, but knew enough that neither the Commander or Nathaniel ever discussed it. He had assumed that Rendon had tortured the Commander and had been killed in self defence. The Commander never spoke about it, or about himself or his past for that matter. Anders had questioned Oghren about what happened once, the usually talkative dwarf had just kept quiet, muttering something about not stirring up long settled dust. _Not that it matters, I'm just curious._

Anders looked around at the party, following Aedan as he led the way into the city, though Anders was unsure why the Commander had not remained at the Vigil to rest the injuries he had suffered in the Silverite mines. Though magic could heal broken bones and seal open wounds, a person would still need time to recover or they ran the risk of overstraining themselves and causing more harm then good. Anders had tried explaining it, and at one stage considered using diagrams, only to suddenly imagine the Commander using him for ballistae practise. Why Aedan personally had to come to Amaranthine for some information and rumours about the Darkspawn was beyond the mage. He had known the Commander less than a month and already knew he was the most stubborn person in the North. He was quiet too, rarely speaking to anyone, only the Vigil's Seneschal Varel or Oghren could hope to have a conversation consisting of more then a couple of grunts.

At least Nathaniel was more talkative, although compared to the Commander that wasn't saying much. Anders had tried to imagine what the life of a nobleman's son would be like and was surprised when Nathaniel had described his life in the Free Marches, the year spent travelling around Kirkwall, the constant training. _So much for the life of drunken debauchery and chasing women I had thought it to be. Still, beats life in the Circle._

Still, the two did find plenty to discuss, usually about the circumstances leading to their respective conscriptions. More often then not though, the conversations would end with Nathaniel exasperated by Anders' constant need to make everything a joke. Anders looked at the pouch he wore at his side, now moving with a life of its own, to see Ser Pounce-a-lot's head poking out of the pouch. Smiling, Anders reached for a piece of dried mackerel and held it before the kitten.

"You seem rather attached to that cat, Anders."

Anders laughed as Nathaniel stated the obvious, since finding the kitten after the assault on Vigil's Keep they had become inseparable. He had worried frantically as they escaped the Silverite mines, only for the kitten to leap into his arms as they reached the surface, dirty but otherwise unharmed. "It's more that he's rather attached to me. Isn't that right Ser Pounce-a-lot?" Unsurprisingly the kitten mewed in agreement, finishing off the last of the mackerel.

Nathaniel's eyebrow arched at the mention of the kitten's name. "Isn't that name a little… ridiculous?"

"What would you rather I called him? Frederick? Meowspawn?

About to answer, Nathaniel realised the futility of arguing about a kitten's name and simply shrugged. "Never mind, there are worse names I suppose."

"Well with that out of the way Nathaniel, any idea why Oghren isn't gracing us with his stench today? Or is he sleeping one off? Not that I'm complaining, but the belching, insults and total lack of basic hygiene does get old rather quickly."

Nathaniel had almost laughed at the comment, almost forgetting the fact that they had travelled for several hours in peace and quiet, Oghren and his ribald stories and attempts to challenge everyone to drinking contests had been left back the Vigil. "I do not know Anders. I believe the Commander ordered Oghren to remain behind, to talk to that dwarven woman who arrived last night. I think she might be Oghren's wife, I can't be sure."

Velanna appeared behind the two, hissing. "Creators, will you two be quiet, it's like travelling with a pair of gossiping da'len! Why are we even here? Why aren't we searching for Seranni?"

Both the men's eyes rolled, wondering how in the Maker's name the elf survived the Joining and how in less then a week felt she could order them around. Anders motioned for Nathaniel to answer her. "Velanna, we're here because there are rumours of Darkspawn near the Knotwood Hills, and where there are Darkspawn there is a chance we might find a clue to where your sister might be."

"Then why is the Commander walking into that tavern? We have no time for this!" Velanna snapped as she pointed towards Aedan as he entered the Crown and Lion inn.

Running after the Commander the trio of Wardens burst into the inn, causing several faces to turn and look at them in a mix of surprise and mild indifference. The innkeeper motioned towards a nearby staircase, indicating Aedan was still there. Anders apologised to the inn's patrons as they made their way up the stairway. They heard voices coming from one of the rooms, one in particular seemed very angry, swiftly followed by a man storming out of the room. There was no doubt, they had found the Commander.

"You found Keenan then?" The voice sounded female, muffled, and sounding more annoyed by the interruption then anything else. Anders held his hand back to Velanna and Nathaniel, motioning for them to stay, whatever was being discussed in there did not need the three of them as well.

"Yes, we did. He died, trying to make the world a better place."

"He told you to say that, did he?"

"That… gentleman. Did Keenan know about him?"

"Not that that is any of your business, but no, my husband didn't. Do you have any idea what it's like? To always be left behind in a strange country, never knowing if we could ever have any children. I was lonely, and I deserve a better life then the one I had with Keenan! Sometimes love just isn't enough."

The three Wardens listening outside realised who Keenan was. They never spoke it, it didn't need to be said, they all knew how to describe the woman behind the door. _Bitch._

There was a pause before Aedan answered, Anders and the others barely hearing it through the door. "Sometimes love is all we have left to hold onto."

The latch on the door jangled, prompting the three Wardens to stand away from the door, acting as if they heard nothing as Aedan walked through the doorway. Surprised to see them, Aedan walked past the nervous trio, thanking the innkeeper for the information, Anders, Nathaniel and Velanna following. Leaving the inn behind them, Aedan looked around, searching for someone.

Knowing that Velanna and Nathaniel would never ask what happened, Anders had moved next to the Commander. He knew he'd never get a straight answer from Aedan, but his mind was piqued. "Commander, what was that about?"

Still searching, Aedan spoke in his usual low tone, Anders straining to hear him over the hustle of the city as Aedan walked away. "I kept a promise to a good man. Come on, we have to find that hunter, Colbert, find out what's happening in the Knotwood Hills."

All the while, the rosewood ring on Aedan's finger felt warm, reminding him of other promises he had made, promises which now ate at his heart and soul.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Into Darkness"

The Knotwood Hills seemed so at odds with the rest of Amaranthine, the Arling full of rich, fertile farmlands, yet the Hills looked so desolate, so barren, so dead. Dead trees clung to the craggy rocks that dotted the landscape, reminders of the land's volatile nature. Boulders, broken apart by ages of rock slides and left with razor sharp edges, now jutted from the ground, appearing like the teeth of some long dead creature. Few ever took to the roads through the Knotwood Hills, fearing the legends of travellers who disappeared into sinkholes which had formed where solid ground had been only moments before. Nothing lived here, nothing wanted to live here, so inhospitable the land that whatever tried to eke out a living here would die, alone, un-mourned, lost in the dry, dead earth.

_It seems fitting that there would be rumours of the Darkspawn stalking these hills. That creatures who tainted and blighted the very ground wherever they went could be found in such a wretched land just seems to make…sense. _Scree tumbled down the hill face as the Grey Wardens walked the precarious edge, the clattering noise of the loose stones as they collided the only sound in the air. As the path trailed away from the edge, Nathaniel could see their destination, a vast chasm, lined with carved stone and pillars, all crumbling through the combined efforts of time, the elements and a lack of care. Before the Grey Wardens stood a rarity nowadays, before them was a surface entrance to the Deep Roads.

Nathaniel had never travelled into the Deep Roads, the lost highways that linked the whole Dwarven empire, now held by the Darkspawn. All the former noble knew, he had learned from second hand accounts, from treasure hunters to mercenaries, from merchants to Oghren, and in most cases Nathaniel had dismissed the claim to be those of madmen, confusing nightmares with reality. He had no doubt that the Deep Roads were dangerous, but not as dread inspiring as people had made them out to be. All that changed when Oghren told him of when he and Aedan journeyed into the cavernous depths, searching for the Paragon Branka, who also happened to be Oghren's first wife. Though Nathaniel had known Oghren for only a few short weeks, and that the Dwarf had liked to jest and to tell tall tales, there was something in his voice that told Nathaniel that Oghren would never take the Deep Roads lightly.

As they drew closer to the chasm, Nathaniel found himself surprised that he wished the Dwarf was here, his expertise and knowledge of the Deep Road would have been useful. As it was, Oghren had been chosen to travel to Denerim and report to King Alistair about the Darkspawn attacks in the Arling. Anders had gone with him as well, to ensure that Oghren actually made it, and to deliver the report should the Dwarf find some cache of ale or mead. It made sense to send the two, Oghren was a friend of Alistair's, setting the King's mind at ease, and Anders, despite being an apostate mage, had apparently made a good impression during the assault on the Vigil. It was obvious to Nathaniel why he had not been chosen, the son of a traitor and murderer would probably be clapped in irons and taken to Fort Drakon to await execution, even he was a Grey Warden now. Velanna, as well had been left out of consideration for the task, the idea of sending an Elf with authority issues and a deep seeded hatred of human to the capital to report to a human king was almost laughable, if not dangerous for everyone concerned.

So while Oghren and Anders journeyed to Denerim, it had left Nathaniel, Velanna and Aedan to investigate the possibility of Darkspawn in the Knotwood Hills. For five days, the three Grey Wardens travelled the narrow roads trailing to the Hills. Nathaniel had been certain they could have made it in less time, but recent storms moving in from western Ferelden had washed out many of the main roads, trapping many of the remote villages and hamlets in the Arling. From what he could understand, many of the Vigil's patrolling soldiers had been trying to clear the roads when the Darkspawn assaulted the Keep. While many roads could be used now, many in the Arling had considered it a waste of time and Men to clear the roads leading to the likes of the Knotwood Hills, a decision that now hampered the Wardens efforts to hunt the Darkspawn.

As Aedan went on to scout the area ahead, Velanna and Nathaniel rested, the Elf's hateful glare making him uncomfortable. In the short time since her Joining, Velanna had made several attempts to bait her fellow Wardens, to anger them so much she could be, in her own mind, be justified in her own twisted view of mankind. Thankfully Nathaniel and Anders had seen through her efforts and simply ignored Velanna as she tried to insult them. It had not stopped her from trying anyway. Eventually, and exasperated by the way Velanna had acted, Nathaniel broke the silence. "What do you want now Velanna?"

The Elf smiled to herself, a mocking tone filling the air. "I'm simply finding it astounding that you tried to hunt down the Grey Warden who murdered you're father and ended up joining the Grey Wardens. Have you no family loyalty?" Satisfied with herself, Velanna allowed herself to lean against the trunk of a dead oak.

He could feel the anger rising, barely controlled. It was times like this that Nathaniel felt he could understand how Aedan felt, the loss, what it felt like to be betrayed. Drawing on all his willpower, Nathaniel calmed himself, taking in a deep breath and held it for a moment. Finally releasing it, Nathaniel looked at Velanna and spoke. "What do you even know Velanna?"

"I know that the Commander killed your fath.."

Nathaniel cut her off. "What do you know Velanna? Did you know that my father and Teryn Bryce Cousland were friends and allies during the war against Orlais? Did you know that they were considered heroes in this land? Did you know that when Teyrn Loghain betrayed King Cailan and left him to die at Ostagar, he made my father the Arl of Denerim, where he tortured his and Loghain's political enemies? Did you know that my father nearly crippled Bann Sighard's son because Oswyn's childhood friend told him what happened at Ostagar? Did you know that at the start of the Blight, my father betrayed his friend and nearly slaughtered Bryce Cousland's entire family, and stole the Teyrnir of Highever for himself, while Highever's troops marched to serve their King? Did you know that the Commander's full name is Aedan Mather Cousland, and that he is Bryce Cousland's younger son? Did you know that Aedan was the only one to survive that treachery?"

Velanna's face had turned pale as Nathaniel told her the truth. She tried at once to apologise, only for Nathaniel to interrupt her, his hand raised, his voice steadily getting angrier as his face reddened. "My father murdered many good people in the name of greed. The only one in this entire affair who betrayed familial loyalty was Rendon Howe. And as much as it hurt my family, he deserved whatever Aedan did to him! You know nothing Velanna! Nothing!"

The sound of dead wood snapping behind him broke Nathaniel out of his rage as Aedan returned from his scouting. Velanna stared at the two Wardens, and lowered her head, shamefully slinking away. Tension hung in the air as the past finally caught up to the Men and old wounds threaten to tear open again. Aedan simply remained where he stood, his fists clenched, his jaw set under the heavy beard he now wore. Nathaniel wondered what memories now flared in the Commander's mind. Were they filled with pain? Anger? Regret? _It doesn't matter. My father was the one who escaped his actions in the end, and with his death, the ones who remain are forever tainted._

"You're a good man, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel looked around, almost disbelieving what he had heard. Aedan's fists had relaxed, hanging loosely, his voice a whisper. "You're a good man, Nathaniel, remember that. Come, I've found a path down into the chasm."

After finding Velanna, the three Wardens followed a narrow, broken trail, eventually leading to an old rope bridge which span the chasm. Though weather-beaten, the bridge was still sturdy to carry them across. Aedan walked across first, reasoning that if the bridge could support his weight and that of the heavy chain mail armour he wore, it would certainly hold Nathaniel and Velanna. As he crossed, Aedan thought about what he had heard, and with came a slew of memories, one he no longer tried to bury. He could still remember the scent of blood in the air as his home burned, holding Oren's limp corpse in his arms and the slickness of his father's blood on his hands. He could still remember the feeling of his family's blade driving deep into Rendon Howe's body, the look in the traitor's eyes, fear mixed with hatred as he died. _How many lives did Rendon destroy? How many families lie ruined and broken because his greed? _

As he stepped off the bridge, Aedan looked back at the others as they began to cross. Watching them cross Aedan thought about when he was younger, he had been no more then twelve years old. Rendon had visited Bryce, bringing his children with him. _This must have been shortly after Rendon's wife died. I can't remember her being there. _Thomas had, as always, been the troublemaker, looking for mischief wherever he could. Delilah had followed Aedan like a puppy, the young boy oblivious to the dreamy, doe eyed look the young lady had whenever she saw Aedan. He remembered that during that it was just before Nathaniel was to be sent to the Free Marches, to be squire to a lord in the region. The two boys had engaged in a friendly archery competition, seeing who was the better shot. It wasn't even close, Nathaniel hitting the mark shot after shot. Aedan had given up trying to win, only to be surprised when the older boy had shown Aedan how to stand and raise the bow properly before making the shot. It had worked, Aedan's skill had improved, though Nathaniel had still won the competition.

As Velanna set foot off the bridge, Nathaniel right behind her, a single thought repeated in Aedan's mind. _You're a good man, Nathaniel. A better man than me._

Making their way down to the Deep Roads entrance, the sound of a skirmish caused the Wardens to ready their weapons. Racing past the crumbling stone, the clash and clang of blades echoed around them, a flash in the dark ahead revealing where the Wardens needed to go. Turning a corner, Aedan saw a party of Darkspawn about to enter the Deep Roads. With them was the supine form a Dwarf, struggling against the Hurlock dragging her by her leg. Finally kicking away, the Dwarf ran, grabbing a fallen axe and facing her assailants.

Reacting by instinct, Aedan charged with the Dwarf as Velanna summoned a stony fist, knocking a Hurlock off it's feet. Nathaniel loosed arrow after arrow, hitting the weak spots in the rusted plates that passed for Darkspawn armour, crippling the creatures as the Dwarf and Aedan finished them. Roots erupted from the ground, wrapping around the limbs of an Emissary before it could cast a spell. Roaring in defiance, the mage tried to free itself with spells of fire and ice, only to fail time and again, before the roots squeezed, ending it's life with a sickening crunch.

Aedan rolled away as a large, crudely made axe crashed to the ground. Freeing the weapon, the leader of the Darkspawn, a large, heavily scarred Hurlock Alpha, swung wildly, missing Aedan as he dove to the ground. Arrows thudded into it's thick hide, only incensing it's rage, driving it to try and kill the Wardens before it. The Dwarf tried to sneak behind the Darkspawn, seeking to bury her dagger into the Hurlock's back. Sensing movement behind it, the Hurlock lashed out, it's hand sweeping back and connected with the Dwarf's head, knocking her to the ground.

By now, Aedan had regained his footing and barrelled into the Hurlock, bringing it to ground and knocking the axe away. Unable to bring his own weapons to bear, Aedan gripped the Alpha's throat, squeezing as his right hand reached for the dagger he always kept on his belt. Both the Warden and Hurlock were locked in a brutal struggle, the Hurlock now trying to throttle Aedan. Freeing the dagger, Aedan reversed the blade and brought it down on the Hurlock's throat. Twisting the blade, Aedan could feel the grip around his throat slacken as the Alpha died. Picking himself up, Aedan looked around, and saw Nathaniel and Velanna tending to the Dwarf's wounds.

Scooping his swords from where they had fallen, Aedan made his way to the three. The Dwarf's helmet had been gingerly removed by Velanna, revealing a face framed with dark brown hair, a face covered with facial markings, almost resembling a skull, with light blue eyes stared back at the Commander, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. A pale glow surrounded the Dwarf as Velanna cast a healing spell, repairing the damage done by the Darkspawn. Satisfied the Dwarf replaced her helmet and gathered her weapons and prepared to enter the Deep Roads. "I was lucky you came along when you did. I'd hate to think what those Darkspawn would have done to me, but I can't stay. The Darkspawn have changed, they're smart now."

"You're Legion of the Dead, aren't you?" It wasn't a question as Aedan adjusted the pauldron of his armour, never taking his eyes off the Dwarf.

The Dwarf smiled, perky, almost unaffected by what had just happened to her. "You're right, warriors, already dead to our people. My group had been sent to retake the old Kal'Hirol fortress when we were ambushed, I.. I was the only one to survive, I was trying to return to our base to inform the others when, well, you know what happened."

Aedan nodded, Legion of the Dead often operated in the more heavily Darkspawn populated parts of the Deep Roads, seeking honourable death for some past transgression in dwarven society. The fact that the Legion unit had been nearly wiped out only highlighted how much the Darkspawn had changed. "How have the Darkspawn changed?"

The Dwarf appeared nonplussed by the question, unsure how to answer. Eventually, she replied. "Their smarter now, lured us into a trap and surrounded us. Look, I can't stay, I have to try and finish my mission. The Darkspawn are building an army in the old thaig and need to be stopped."

Aedan laid a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. As always, his voice was low, causing the Dwarf to strain to hear him. "We're coming with you."

"Errr, why? I appreciate the help and all, but this isn't really your fight. And I'm going off to die, you probably don't want to see that."

Lighting a torch, Aedan looked at Nathaniel and Velanna, both nodding and prepared themselves for what laid ahead. "We are Grey Wardens. We've been searching for the Darkspawn attacking the region, we'll help you complete your mission."

The Dwarf almost giggled. "The Ancestors must be smiling on me. Oh, my name is Sigrun. So, have you killed many Darkspawn before? Hey, cheer up you three, no one loves a grump. Come on, what are you waiting for? We've got a fortress to retake! let's go!"

As they entered the Deep Roads, a single thought ran through Nathaniel's mind. _This is going to be a long day…._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Lessons Learned"

Powdery snow exploded into the air as the former branch slammed against the tree stump. Attacks against an imaginary enemy were made in quick succession, each blow hitting a vital area, slicing through nonexistent armour and flesh. Sweat soaked his shirt as he moved around the stump, countering attacks while finding new openings to exploit. Eventually Aedan executed his foe, one blade driving deep into it's torso, the other swinging above his head, driving down and knocking the rock from the top of the stump. Satisfied with himself, Aedan panted as he wiped the sweat from his brow, his training for the day done. So intent he had been, Aedan failed to notice he had gained an audience, only to be surprised to hear a pair of hands slowly clapping behind him.

"Most impressive, that tree never knew what killed it." Morrigan stood on a small hill overlooking the Warden, her cloaked draped across her shoulders. "'Tis a shame then that you are battling against the Darkspawn and not against Ferelden's dead trees, else this Blight would be over already."

His lips broke out in that ridiculous grin, his teeth white as the snow that fell around him. Laying the two carved swords against the stump, Aedan turned towards the Witch and nodded before he spoke. "Yes, entire flowerbeds fear my approach, lest I cleave my way through their stalks, shrubs cower in terror, wondering if I will brutally prune them with my Shears of Doom."

_Must he always act the fool? _Walking towards Aedan, Morrigan took note of the swords Aedan had been carving whenever they had made camp for the past week. They both had the basic shape of a sword, though the blades, if they could be called that, were rough, slivers of splinters still marked the grain of the wood. Leather strips were wrapped around the grip, protecting the hands from the splinters. Seeing where Morrigan's attention had turned to, Aedan offered his explanation.

"Get a piece of heavy wood like oak, and if you shape it right, you get something that has roughly the same weight and feel of an iron sword. I only have to worry about the training sword breaking and not a difficult to repair weapon. It's also allowing my left arm to get used to using a full sized weapon again."

Morrigan thought back to the day when Flemeth rescued the two Wardens from the Tower of Ishal. Both had been injured by the Darkspawn infesting the tower, though by sheer luck, Alistair had only been rendered unconscious. Aedan had fared worse against the Darkspawn, several black arrows had pierced his armour, one lodged deep into his shoulder, a second his thigh, a third had nearly gone through his chest, barely missing his heart and lung. Blood poured from the wounds as the arrows were removed, Aedan groaning as the pain overwhelmed him. Afterwards, as Flemeth tended to Alistair, Morrigan had watched over the Warden, curiosity filling her mind. Even granting her mother's magical abilities, it would take Aedan some time to recover from his injuries. Even more curious to her were the names the Warden had mumbled as he slept, names that she had difficulty understand through Aedan's fevered dreams. Still, in the end it didn't matter, Aedan had woken up and left with Alistair to try to stop the Blight, Morrigan journeying with them, the payment, her mother had told the Wardens, for saving their lives.

And now, looking at him, Morrigan could see that Aedan had fully recovered, the wounds he had suffered in the tower now healed. There had been a time when he feared his left arm would not regain its full strength, he had never spoken of this to her or the others, but his eyes told her, the worry, contrasting the determination set in his eyes. _'Tis strange that I would notice that or even care for it. No matter, he is well enough to battle the Blight, and that strength is certainly impressive._

"'Tis an unusual way you fight. One would imagine it difficult to wield two weapons, especially in the chaos of a real battle." By now, Morrigan was leaning against the stump, the dead tree between her and the Warden. She watched as he tried to think of a suitable answer, unsure of what to make of what Morrigan had just asked of him.

"Concerned for my safety, are you?" The glare in her eyes told Aedan that she was in no mood for humour. "Forgive me, I couldn't help it. Yes, it is an unusual style to see in Ferelden, but it suits me. Don't get me wrong, I was raised to use a sword and shield and even a two handed weapon, if the need were to ever come up, and I'm also a fair competent archer, but wielding two weapons allows me to control my battles."

Morrigan realised she must have looked confused, as Aedan laughed, picking up the two training blades. "A shield might grant more protection from the likes of arrows and melee weapons, but more often then not, the bearer has to react to an attacker, to counter a blow and to protect themselves. A double handed weapon offers a great deal of hitting strength, while at the same time it slows a warrior to the point where they have to plan ahead for every attack, which leaves them open to a more agile opponent."

Aedan winked at Morrigan as he performed a flourish with the blades. "An agile opponent, like me. I sacrifice the protection of a shield for the ability to dictate the flow of melee, I force my enemy to react to my terms. I sacrifice the power of a double handed weapon for speed, and the ability to strike when my enemy is at their weakest. And then we get into the various melee weapons, and without beginning to sound like my old trainer, each has their own advantages and disadvantages depending on the situation."

Pausing for a moment, Aedan studied the swords, hefting them in his hands before throwing one into the air. The sword hung in the air for a spilt second, before it began to fall again, the Warden catching the sword and offering it to Morrigan, grip first, in the same movement. "Of course, it's one thing to talk about it, you can only really learn by trying."

_Another game? Hmm, perhaps it would be a welcome distraction. Very well, I will play his game. _Morrigan took the offered sword, the weight surprisingly reassuring in her hand. "What now?"

"First to score three hits on the other, is the winner. Does that seem fair?" His lips still kept their smile as he offered the terms.

"'Twould hardly seem fair, you are the warrior after all, this is the first time I have held a sword, real or not. You do have the distinct advantage. But out of curiosity, what shall the winner receive?"

Aedan instantly tossed the sword into his left hand, placing his right behind his back. Shrugging, the Warden tilted his head. "I could always wear a blindfold if you wish, maybe spin around a few times. Its up to you."

Morrigan shook her head. _Fool. _"That will not be necessary, I prefer a challenge. I accept, and you still have not told me what the winner shall receive."

"Oh? I didn't? Well, that can be up to the winner then. Ready?"

Morrigan smiled and made her move, charging the Warden with the blade raised above her head, swinging down. The blade was swiftly and deftly deflected away by Aedan. Her attack and it's momentum had propelled Morrigan away from Aedan. Suddenly she felt a swift, yet soft rap on her…_He didn't!_

Regaining her footing, Morrigan spun around, glaring at the Warden, his laughter dying away as he saw the indignant look in her eyes. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have done that. It was remiss of….whoa!" Aedan ducked as the blade narrowly missed his head. Morrigan swung the blade again, only to find the sword once again blocked by Aedan on the return, the young warrior pushing Morrigan away and rolling behind her. "That's two." The sword tapping the Witch on her shoulder.

"Do not think you have won yet Warden!" Her arm stretched out, a chill wind blowing from her extended hand, aimed at Aedan's feet. The Warden tried to keep his footing, only to fall on his back as the ground beneath him became solid ice. Dazed, and staring the sky, Aedan attempted to push himself up, as Morrigan stepped into his field of vision, planting her foot firmly on his chest. As she stood over him, the blade in hand, Morrigan smiled, taunting him. "I win." The blade tapped each cheek, followed by a swift tap to Aedan's head.

He chuckled. "So that's what it feels like to have my ass handed to me…." Resting himself on his arm, Aedan looked at the Witch and shrugged, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, still smiling. "But Morrigan, there is just one thing you should know about me." Suddenly Morrigan felt his legs entangle hers and pull her down, the Warden rolling on top of her, leaning in close. "I usually hate to lose."

Morrigan's eyebrow arched as he moved closer, his scent filling her world. She could feel her heart beat faster. _He will not get to me that easily. _Pushing herself away from him, Morrigan whispered, teasing the Warden. "Usually?"

There was that lopsided grin again as Aedan looked into her eyes. His eyes were fascinating, bright green, almost like emerald or raw jade, even in the dying light of the evening, they shone. His hands slid over her body, holding her as he gently lifted her from the ground with ease. "I don't think I'd mind losing to you, Morrigan."

Once again, Morrigan teased him, her finger trailing across Aedan's chest, slowly working it's way to under his jaw, caressing it. She would never admit it to him or anyone else, but the two day growth of stubble tickled her. "That's right, I did win. I think I will claim my prize now." Grabbing his hair and head, Morrigan pulled herself towards the Warden, kissing him deeply, his lips still tasted as sweet as that first kiss in the forest. She was pleased when he returned the kiss, his arms enclosing around her, lifting her closer to him.

The kiss became more passionate, more intense as they ignored the world around them. Morrigan was surprised to feel his tongue against hers, though she did not complain, instead enjoying the sensation. Aedan's hand ran up her back, dragging his fingers against the fabric of her blouse, sending a shiver throughout Morrigan's body.

Pausing, Morrigan broke away from the Warden, a mischievous smile on her lips. "'Tis cold out here in the woods." From the look in his eye, Morrigan knew that Aedan understood what she meant.

Aedan response was to draw her closer to him, whispering as he kissed her neck. "I'm sure we can do something about that, don't you?"

Her eyes closed, Morrigan purred as he moved across her neck. "Hmm, I agree, Warden."

Aedan stopped, and brought himself back to her lips. "My name isn't Warden, it's Aedan."

Amazing herself, Morrigan giggled. "Whatever you say… Aedan."

As he removed her cloak, Aedan tried to reach for his own, to lay it on the ground, before he laid Morrigan on the woollen cloth. Aedan helped her remove her clothes, as she did with his, his lips never leaving her skin, save for when Morrigan pulled his shirt over his head, both ignoring the cold as their bodies warmed each other. Morrigan began to stroke his back as Aedan's hand caressed her leg. His body was firm, muscular, the result of years of training, yet the Witch was shocked to feel a scar running from Aedan's shoulder to the base of his back. It was an old wound, long since healed and knotted.

Aedan had begun to nuzzle Morrigan's neck before whispering in her ear. "It's a reminder of a lesson from my youth, one that I learned the hard way."

_Hmmm, he knows what to do, and how to do it well. 'Tis good to know this is not a total waste. _She managed to ask Aedan what that lesson was before moaning.

Laughing softly, Aedan had continued to whisper to her "Know when to duck!". As Morrigan moaned, Aedan kissed her, silencing her, his hand slowly lifting her leg. For Morrigan the rest of the night began to fade into a blur of passion, lust and pleasure.

Awakening the next morning with a smile, the Warden's arm draped over her, Morrigan searched for her clothes, stirring Aedan. Watching him as he dressed, Morrigan rested her head on his shoulder, murmuring into his ear. "I see the tales of Grey Warden endurance have not been exaggerated."

Taken aback, Aedan took a moment to realise what Morrigan had said to him. "There are tales?"

"Oh yes, legends abound about Garahel and his prowess on the battlefield, and off it. The real question is if it's the taint within you, or if Grey Wardens are by their nature so very… healthy. I prefer to think of as a little of both, natural prowess, driven by a dark side."

Placing her hands on his shoulders, Morrigan pushed herself away from the Warden. "Simply know, that I desire no claim to your independence. I wish only to do what I desire, and if that coincides with what you desire, than so be it. And should you wish to not continue our… misadventure, then so be it. Simple, is it not?"

"What? You don't want to mark me as yours?" Aedan motioned to the marking surrounding his eye, still smiling all the while. "As you can tell, I'm not averse to such things. But thank you for spelling things out for me. I'm not sure my tiny little mind would have comprehended all that!"

Rolling her eyes at his sarcasm and with a retort at the ready, Morrigan was interrupted by the sound of barking, as a mound of fur and slobber crashed through the trees, landing in front of Aedan. Morrigan had almost aimed an icicle at the creature only to realise that it was Aedan's Mabari hound, Beast. _That animal is troublesome at the best of times, still, I must admit, he is faithful to his master, and protective of him. I wonder how they met? No mind, 'tis nothing of consequence now._

"He must have woken up, saw I wasn't there and came searching. I can't get a moment's peace with him around. Ten years together and he just has to wake up at the foot of my bed." Aedan rubbed the hound's ears, the stub of it's tail wagging with joy, pleased for his master's affection.

The Mabari had sat, looking at his master and Morrigan, unsure of what had happened. "Beast, keep this to yourself, and I'll get you an ox bone." Whining, the animal lowered it's head onto his lap, Aedan throwing his hand in the air. "Fine! A beef bone! Happy?" Satisfied, the hound trotted back to camp, leaving his master to rub his head in exasperation, talking into his hands. "I should never have taught him how to negotiate."

Turning back to Morrigan, Aedan appeared bemused by the hound, but smiled as he saw the Witch fasten the cloak around her neck. Taking her by the waist, Aedan spun Morrigan around, and kissed her again. "Thank you Morrigan…. Well, lets get back before the others realise we're gone and form search parties."

She mulled it over in her mind, a little annoyed that Aedan was jesting, even now. "Oh, and how can there be a search party when there are just three people?"

He grinned, shrugging as he made his way back to camp. "I don't know, maybe have really small parties? I'm hungry, you feel like having some breakfast? Lets see what's in the supply wagon."

Morrigan watched as the Warden walked into the morning mist now forming on the icy ground, utterly confused by the man.

As she slept in her bed, Morrigan dreamt of that first night, and of all the nights she spent with Aedan, her Warden. And smiled as she slept.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Shadows of the Past"

The torches were next to useless in the tunnels, the oil soaked rags offering little light in the inky shadows of the tunnels. The air felt close, cloying and heavy as the party descended deeper and deeper, towards the Dwarven thaig of Kal'Hirol. Sigrun had offered to explain what was so important about the thaig, and in the same breath had given the Grey Wardens a brief lesson about the Paragon who had founded the settlement, though it was clear that Sigrun had been no scholar, only remembering what had been told to her before her company had set off on their mission.

The Paragon Hirol had been a warrior born, yet, unusually for a Dwarf, wished to be more than the caste he had been born into. Throughout his life, Hirol had learned the art of the smith, how to rule as a noble, as well as how to battle as a warrior, eventually mastering all the skills he could learn. His research had built on Caridin's work with Golems, resulting in the Dwarves learning how to increase the constructs resilience and strength. In honour of his work for the defence of the Dwarven empire, Hirol had been made a Paragon, and with the prestige that came with that title, had founded the thaig of Kal'Hirol which quickly became a centre of learning for the smith caste. What had been learned and discovered in the thaig had allowed the citizens to become some of the wealthiest in the empire, and had been lost, when the Darkspawn seized control of the Deep Roads. Once draped in the finest materials gold and lyrium could buy, the elite of Kal'Hirol had arrived at Orzammar in rags and begging for shelter when the thaig fell. In the end, Kal'Hirol had just been another casualty of the Darkspawn and of the Blight, lost to the shadows.

Sigrun had led the way towards the thaig, chattering to the Wardens, asking them what life was like on the surface, what it felt like to see the sky, a thousand questions, to which the Grey Wardens gave little or any response. Every once in a while, Sigrun would pause, raising her hand to the others, searching for signs of an ambush, before going back to her bombardment of questions. Aedan walked behind her, torch in hand, wary of the shadows. Nathaniel and Velanna followed, the elf somewhat twitchy to be so deep underground, more then once, Velanna had cast a fireball into a crevice, frightened by the shadows, only for the others to glare disapprovingly. There was no reason to reveal themselves to the Darkspawn yet, and the creatures would know that Grey Wardens had invaded their territory soon enough.

The tunnel opened into a vast cavern, an underground river bisecting the cavern, the fast flowing water cutting deep into the limestone. High above the party hung mighty stalactites, each seemed like blades, wavering just above the Wardens' heads, waiting to fall. It was a thought that had made Velanna even more uncomfortable. As Aedan and Nathaniel scouted the cavern, trying to sense Darkspawn, the Elf sat on a boulder, nervous. Sigrun glanced at her and felt… curious. Sitting next to Velanna, Sigrun looked the Elf up and down before speaking. "You're the first elf I've ever met. Do you feel honoured?"

Rubbing her temples and trying to slow her breathing, Velanna didn't hear the question, only realising Sigrun was speaking to her when the Dwarf nudged her in the ribs. "Why would I feel honoured?"

"Your actions will influence my opinion of your race." Pausing for a moment, Sigrun raised her hands and shaked them slightly, whispering. "Forever."

Even in the dim light of the cavern, it was obvious that Velanna was about to be ill. Clenching her teeth, the mage looked at the stalactites above them. "Oh. Thank you! Not only do I have to worry about the hundreds of thousands of tonnes of stone above my head, I also have to deal being your Elven role model…."

Patting her on the shoulder, Sigrun hopped off the boulder, and headed towards the two men. "Glad to help! And don't worry about these old caverns, they were carved to last forever." Before she had even finished the sentence, a stalactite had broken away and crashed into the stream.

Neither woman spoke as the water rippled, Aedan and Nathaniel had rushed back, neither man sure what had happened. "See, what did I tell you? That wasn't Dwarven carved! Look at it this way, at least it didn't hit you."

Speechless, Velanna slid from the boulder, attempting to think of a way to screech at the Dwarf without letting the Darkspawn know they were nearby. Burying her face into her hands Velanna screamed in frustration, the noise now muffled by doeskin gloves.

Aedan pushed past the two women, shouldering his pack before speaking to the others. "Let's go. It's quiet now but that can change soon, the longer we linger, the more likely we'll be spotted by the Darkspawn."

Sigrun nodded in agreement. The path where the Wardens now stood was worn, by a near constant stream of movement, all around them were fresh signs of activity. Footprints had been trampled into oblivion by newer ones, even now, the dust raised before the Wardens arrived was still trying to settle. Unsure of how many Darkspawn had travelled through the area, Sigrun could only be certain of one thing, the prints all led in one direction, Kal'Hirol.

The Dwarf was about to explain her thoughts to the Warden Commander when she realised the man had frozen, his eyes wide in terror,

Before him, in the middle of the trail, stood the black armoured warrior that had haunted his nightmares. Even in the shadows, Aedan could see every detail of the warrior, the jet of the armour polished to a sheen, the reflections of the torches and of the Grey Wardens distorted in the mirror-like plates of the greaves and chest. The silver decorations glistened in the torchlight, the various wolf heads snarling at Aedan in the low light of the cavern.

The warrior stared at Aedan, it's face obscured as always. The same sword hung by it's side, now covered in blood. The warrior was still the same as it had been in his nightmares, save for one change. It's left gauntlet had now developed cruel barbs along the fingers, designed to grab and tear, to hold and destroy. Blood dripped from the gauntlet, pooling on the ground by it's feet. He could feel it trying to judge him, peering into his soul. As if deciding it had done enough, the warrior raised it's sword, blood falling and leaving a streak of crimson in the dust. The blade pointed at Aedan's throat, the intent obvious….. Aedan would have to die.

A hand on his shoulder snapped Aedan from his hallucination, the warrior dissolving like dust before him. A familiar voice rang through his ears, at first sounding like it was in another world, growing louder and clearer with each word. "…Alright? Commander, are you alright?"

Shrugging Nathaniel's hand away, Aedan nodded, barking at his fellow Warden, as he set off up the trail towards Kal'Hirol. "I'm fine! I thought I saw something in the shadows! It's the Deep Roads. Plays tricks on the mind."

"You were in the Deep Roads before? Wait… Are you the Grey Warden that found the Anvil of the Void?" Sigrun had begun to jog after Aedan, Nathaniel and Velanna chasing after the pair.

"Yes."

Catching up with Aedan, Sigrun tried to keep pace with the Human. "And you were the one who crowned Prince Bhelan?" The Dwarf had tried to grab Aedan's belt, to get him to stop, only to be dragged along as Aedan kept moving forward.

Nathaniel and Velanna had stopped now, puzzled by the questions being asked of the Commander. "What is the Anvil of the Void and who is Prince Bhelen?"

Sigrun answered for them, her perkiness now gone. "Prince Bhelen is the youngest and only living son of King Endrin Aeducan, the last king of Orzammar. He was crowned during the Blight last year by a Grey Warden who had been sent into the Deep Roads in search of the Anvil of the Void and the Paragon Branka, who had gone in search of it three years ago. The Anvil is said to be how Caridin made his golems for Orzammar and the Empire, Branka was the only Paragon in four generations and she was missing. When the Grey Warden returned, he brought word that Branka was dead and how he destroyed the Anvil. There was uproar from some of the nobles, that Orzammar would be left defenceless and that a Paragon had been killed, but they accepted Caridin's choice and Bhelen was crowned King."

"So you could have had an army of nearly indestructible constructs at your command and you just destroyed it? I thought you were crazy, now I know it!" It was Velanna, incredulous that Aedan had let such a weapon go, in fact destroyed by his own hand. "Why?"

The Commander finally stopped, his shoulders slumping, his chin resting on his chest. His voice was tired, sounding so far away.

"I was asked to do it. Caridin asked me to do it."

Aedan turned, looking Velanna in the eyes, even in the low light, his stare was unsettling. His voice never changed as he spoke, quiet, cold, steady. "Do you know how a golem is made, Velanna? A Dwarf would be taken to the Anvil of the Void and stripped of their weapons and armour, then placed into an armoured shell carved from stone, or forged from steel."

As he spoke Aedan walked towards Velanna, each footfall sounding like the rolling of thunder in the cavern. The closer he came to the Elf, the crash of each step grew louder and louder. "The Anvil of the Void was surrounded by miles of dense stone. You know why they chose that location? So the screams of those Dwarves could not be heard when molten lyrium was poured into every orifice, every crevice."

Only when he stood before her, did Aedan's voice show any emotion, the barest hint of anger hanging off each word. "Supposedly the screams would end quickly, allowing Caridin just enough time to start shaping the golem. It didn't matter if they were volunteers, criminals, political enemies or casteless, there were never enough Dwarves to fill the need. The real kicker? The Dwarves inside the shell didn't quite die, as the golem would soon begin to groan with each hammer fall." Sickening even himself, Aedan walked away from Velanna, only to throw his hands into the air, balling his fists, trying to control his anger.

Rounding on her again, Aedan tried to hold back the vitriol he felt for the mage, angered at having to relive his past actions again. "Golems might be powerful weapons, but at what point does the desire to defend your homeland end and tyranny begins? The Anvil corrupted people, it destroyed Caridin, it took feeling the hammer on his own body for him to realise what he had done. It ate at Branka, causing her to sacrifice her own house in a blind obsession for it, people who had sworn loyalty to her! Now imagine what a despot like Bhelen would have done with it. And yes, I have heard the rumours, Sigrun, Bhelen killing his critics and political enemies. The dissolution of the Assembly. And I know it's my fault! The Anvil was a power I didn't want or desired and it's a power that should never have been discovered in the first place! There is enough blood on my hands, I didn't want anymore staining them!"

His body quivering with rage, Aedan turned back to the trial, once again walking towards Kal'Hirol. Velanna simply shrugged and followed the Warden, more than a little relieved she still had her head. Nathaniel and Sigrun watched dumbfounded as the Warden Commander faded into the waiting shadows. "Wow… He does not like her…."

"Sigrun, I don't think he likes anyone." With that, Nathaniel started after the others, beckoning Sigrun to follow.

The first sign the Wardens had of the Darkspawn had not been a Hurlock or Shriek, but a lone Dwarf, his armour rent and torn in several places, blood flowing freely from his wounds. Sigrun instantly recognised the prone form as one of her comrades in the Legion of the Dead. His breathing was shallow, his skin pale in the torchlight, flecks of blood were scattered across his bread. Cradling his head in her lap, Sigrun tried to staunch the bleeding, her voice breaking as she tried to comfort the dying warrior. "Jukka, what happened Jukka?"

As she reached for bandages in her pack, Jukka's hand grabbed Sigrun's wrist, stopping her. The Legionnaire wheezed, more blood rising with each movement. It was taking all of his remaining strength to speak, and he wanted to be sure he was heard. "No…Sigrun…I feel my death upon me… And it is…a sweet… release. But…" He coughed violently, Sigrun holding her friend closer, his blood now spilling onto her armour. "But beware the Children….They are… abominations…even amongst the Darkspawn." Jukka's grip relaxed, his hand falling across his chest.

"Ancestors Blessings, Jukka." The Dwarf looked up, her eyes red and teary. "Warden, I know time is short, but can we make sure that Jukka is returned to the Stone properly? I owe him that much." Aedan gave no answer, instead began searching for stones, arranging them around the fallen Legionnaire. Soon a ring of stone had formed, awaiting a capstone that Aedan and Nathaniel heaved over, protecting Jukka's body from the scavengers of the Deep Roads. Returning to the task at hand, Aedan rested his hand on Sigrun's shoulder, and continued to the entrance of Kal'Hirol above them.

The closer the Wardens got to the thaig's gates, the more they could sense the Darkspawn awaiting them, the overwhelming signs of the taint infesting the fortress invaded their senses. Yet there was no attack, no ambush as they passed the gates. All that laid before them were the remains of the Darkspawn, massacred and torn apart by some unseen force. Yet most disturbing of all were the signs that the Darkspawn had been partially devoured. The stench of Darkspawn blood hung in the air, clinging to their throats as the party looked for clues as to what happened. Whatever had happened in the courtyard happened fast, was over quickly and occurred very recently, the black blood on the ground still wet.

A skittering behind him caused Aedan to raise his head, his sword drawn, ready for battle. As the others heard the same sounds, each followed suit, Nathaniel nocking an arrow onto his bow, fiery sparks leaping from Velanna's staff, Sigrun's axe and dagger reflecting the magical glow emanating from the mage. The skittering was all around them, growing louder, until finally a small creature scrambled over the exposed ribcage of a Genlock. It was grub-like, it's body segmented, spindly claws jutted from it's body, but most horrifying of all was it's face, almost Human, but distorted and malformed but the corruption running through it's veins. Studying Aedan for a moment the creatures screeched, exposing rows of needle-like teeth. Another creature appeared, and then another, and another, until the Grey Wardens were surrounded by the grubs, all screeching and hissing, waiting to attack.

Hot tears streaked Sigrun's face, the thought of these things devouring her comrades angering her. "These must be the Children Jukka tried to warn us about."

Nathaniel and Velanna had already picked their targets, waiting only for the word. Nathaniel dared to dart his eyes towards Aedan, whispering so as not to alert the Children. "Your orders Commander?"

Aedan sneered at the Children, and threw his torch at the first creature, burning it's face. He gave only one order to the party.

"Kill them all!"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"A Return"

"So we sneak past this soddin' huge dragon, and the boss has got this vial of blood that this crazy human gave him, right?" Oghren tore at the chicken as he told Anders the tale, stuffing a leg into his mouth. Anders could barely watch the Dwarf noisily chew, feeling his gorge rise as chunks of poultry fell onto Oghren's beard.

Ignoring the look on the Mage's face, Oghren slurped down the last of the mead in his flask before continuing the story. "Anyway, we get inside the temple and the boss sees this small window facing the door, so he looks around and makes sure there's none of those bronto lovin' cultists around, and flings that vial of blood through it. And that's when Alistair turns to him and said, "That was you're big plan? Throw that blood out a window?" You know what the boss said? He said..." Oghren began to laugh uncontrollably, finding the apparent punch line too funny to complete. "The boss looked back at him and said, "Do I look like I have a plan? I've been making this up as we've been going along since Lothering!"

Anders did nothing, save for finishing his own drink before speaking. "Alright, now I know you're lying Oghren. You almost had me believing you with the story that you and the Commander found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, but you lost me with him making a joke. The man wouldn't know what a sense of humour was, if it came up and slapped him in the face. All due respect to the man, he helped me with the Templars, he knows how to kill Darkspawn, but funny? No, I don't believe it."

Neither Warden particularly enjoyed being in the other's company at the time. They had arrived in Denerim three days before to deliver their report on the Darkspawn attacks in Amaranthine to Alistair, only to find the King was still trying to rebuild his country after the ravages of the Blight. Alistair had insisted that they'd stay at the palace until he had a chance to really discuss what had occurred and what measures could be taken. Boredom was setting in, as was contempt.

Oghren slammed the mug of ale down onto the table, rattling the plates and spilling some of the contents over his hand. "Yeah, well let's see you do any better you slack-jawed, bronto licking coward. If you saw a broodmother, you'd wet yourself and cry for a Templar to save you. Probably reward him by offering to polish his….."

"I'm glad to see you still have a way with words, Oghren."

Anders turned to the source of the new voice, and saw an Elf leaning against the doorframe. His slender build was hidden beneath the straps and buckles of finely crafted Antivan leather armour. Long blond hair was tied back, falling across his shoulder, curved markings crossing his cheeks.

Oghren pulled himself away from devouring the last of the chicken, white flesh clinging to his beard as he spoke to the newcomer. "Huh? What? You got small breasts for a serving wench!"

"It wasn't funny the first time you said that Oghren and it isn't funny now. Still, it is good to see you my diminutive, drunken friend." Zevran Arainai glided into the room, sliding next to Oghren on the bench, trying to ignore the food being ripped apart in front of him.

"Shouldn't you be in Antiva getting your pipes cleaned, Elf?" Bread splattered the leather armour, Zevran disdainfully brushing away the crumbs with a sweep of his gloved hand as Oghren spoke.

"Only once my friend and not in the manner you might imagine. My business in Antiva is over for the time being so I thought I'd return to Denerim for the sparkling charm of the locals." It was the same dry wit the Elf used whenever someone tried to insult him, taking all the verbal barbs in his stride, as he rested his arm on the Dwarf's shoulder. "So they tell me that you are a Grey Warden now, Oghren. I must say that Ferelden must be truly desperate if the Wardens will accept the likes of you. But I must ask, who is this fine fellow before me?"

"Anders, mage and Grey Warden, at your service." The mage extended his hand to the assassin. "And you are?"

"Ha! Be careful what you say to this one, Sparkle-fingers, Little-miss-pervert here might get the wrong idea."

Taking Anders' hand, Zevran laughed. "Don't listen to him, half the time I travelled with him, Oghren never knew where his pants were. And I am Zevran Arainai, Zev to my friends. So you are one of the new Grey Wardens then? While I would love to chat to you, I did come here with a message from Alistair." Pausing to pour himself a goblet of wine, Zevran smiled to himself before continuing. "It would seem that the good King would like Anders to deliver the report. I have business to attend to with Oghren."

The Dwarf snorted, loudly, nearly deafening the assassin next to him. "Whatever you're talking about I'm keeping my pants on, Elf!"

"Oghren, I am amazed you've kept your pants on so far."

"Well, this is getting awkward, even for me. I better go deliver that report, you two have fun." With that Anders excused himself and left the pair.

Zevran muttered to himself as he leered after the mage. "Nice fellow. I might stick around Denerim for a while if the new Grey Wardens are anything like him."

"Elf, is there anything you won't try to hump?"

"Is there anything you won't try to drink Oghren?" Zevran countered.

"….Touché."

The assassin was wide eyed as he heard the response. "Why Oghren, I am shocked at your skill with the vernacular, you could knock me over with a feather, and please," Zevran raised his hand to silence Oghren before he could retort. "don't let this conversation degrade any further with any innuendo. I hear Amaranthine is wonderful this time of the year, the Darkspawn are sprouting, Genlocks and Ogres ripe for the slaughter….. I miss the old days."

Oghren lifted the mug to his lips, taking a draught before speaking. "Soddin' bastards just keep popping up everywhere. Crafty buggers too, appeared out of nowhere, right in the middle of the courtyard when they attacked Vigil's Keep. Course, they captured or killed all the Orlesian Grey Wardens when they attacked. They're gettin' smarter too, we've heard a couple of them talk, ugly bastards, especially that one we saw in the Silverite mine."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Zevran looked at his friend, almost laughing. "Talking Darkspawn? I'm sorry Oghren, but what have you been drinking? I'm sure they just screamed when they smelled you were coming."

Mug still in hand, Oghren peered at the contents before drinking some more of the ale. "Keep it up Elf and I'll introduce your face to my axe!"

Seeing the Dwarf was serious, Zevran held his hands up. "My apologises Oghren, and nice cliché, please, continue."

"Anyway, the boss recruited a couple more Grey Wardens, crazy Dalish mage, real keeper too. And the other one, this one you'll really love, the boss recruited Nathaniel Howe, old Rendon's blighter."

Putting down his own goblet, the Elf blinked at the revelation. "Now I know you're drunk Oghren, Aedan recruited a Howe? He actually recruited him…. I truly am astonished. And they haven't killed each other yet?"

"I am drunk, and they haven't done anything, talked a couple of times, but mostly they keep to themselves when they're at the Keep."

"So where are they now?"

"Hunter in Amaranthine said he saw some Darkspawn in the Knotwood Hills so the boss took Nathaniel and Velanna there to investigate." Oghren pointed to the now empty seat across from him. "Me and mage boy got sent here, dunno why, all I've done since I've got here is get my ear yelled off at Felsi."

"Ah, yes. I heard you and Felsi had a child, I suppose congratulations are in order."

Oghren scoffed. "I suppose I'd better thank you. Now is there something you wanted Zevran, cause I'm getting sober here."

"You and I both know what I want to discuss. How is he doing?" The Elf could sense Oghren wasn't in the mood for games, and neither was he. Aedan was one of the few true friends he had, and while he would not admit it, Zevran was deeply concerned for his friend. It had been almost a relief to know that Oghren was watching his back in Amaranthine.

The Dwarf tried to chuckle, only for it to sound hollow and dead in the air around them. "How do you think? He's alright, kills Darkspawn, getting a little surly, keeps to himself. Got a fine beard going."

Zevran leaned in closer, trying to ignore the smell of stale mead, ale, sweat and blood. "Is that all? There is nothing else?"

Sneering at the Elf, Oghren's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Well, there was the time the boss ordered everyone in the Keep to wear their socks on their hands and call him the lizard king, Elf! There isn't anything else. We just have to wait."

"I'm beginning to think this isn't about Morrigan." Zevran sank back onto the bench, and reached for the goblet of wine, seeing the mug of ale shatter on the table as Oghren slammed it in anger.

"You're an idiot, Al too! Put yourself in the boss's boots. Two years ago, he's happy enough with his family in Highever. Then, boom." His hand slammed the table, shaking the ceramic shards of the ruined mug. "Howe comes in, slaughters them and puts the boss on the run. He gets recruited into the Grey Wardens and thrown into a Blight. For a year he fights things that would have sent a lot of others screaming for the Ancestors. You were in the Deep Roads with us, you saw what it was like there. He fought werewolves, undead, a couple of dozen demons, traitors, Darkspawn, Darkspawn, and oh! some more Darkspawn, a soddin' dragon witch, a half assed assassination attempt from you and to top it off, an Archdemon. I'm impressed he didn't break a long time ago."

Flicking his hand in a vain attempting to dry it, Oghren looked at the remnants of the mug. "Now look at what he has to do now. He has to rebuild the Order, while investigating Darkspawn attacks, and Stone knows what other things are ahead of him. Just gotta hope he snaps out of it."

Dejected, Zevran followed at Oghren's gaze, and stared at the shards. "For once, my friend, you are right."

Nodding as he reached for the flask on his belt, Oghren knocked back the contents before passing it to Zevran. "Besides, the Witch didn't leave him, he left her go. She asked him to do it, and he did, just for her."

Taking the offered brew, Zevran took a sip, and coughed as Oghren's homebrew worked it's way down his throat. "I did not know that."

"Lot of things you don't know."

Blinking hard and trying not to collapse, Zevran watched as Oghren pushed himself away from the table and helped him to his feet, wheezing as the Dwarf's hands gripped his arm. "Again, you are right. So how do you think they are getting on in the Knotwood Hills?"

Making his way to the door, Oghren just shrugged as he and Zevran made their way to the throne room. "If I know the boss, he's probably neck deep in trouble and isn't giving a damn…."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Revelations"

_**Author's Note: **__Well, first things first, I think this is the first note I've added that wasn't an introduction to a tale. Weird…. Anyway, before I go off on a tangent, I better apologize for the lack of updates recently. For the last couple of months, I've been having several problems with my laptop, the kind of problems where it reboots every thirty seconds given half a chance, and it's disrupted me, quite a lot. There is nothing more annoying than getting a dialogue between Aedan and Morrigan done, without it sounding too cheesy, only to try and save and realize you're looking at a blue screen of death. Well, last week I got sick of spending two hours writing something that should have only taken 20 minutes due to constant rebooting, and I ordered a new laptop, which arrived yesterday morning, and now I can get back to torturing Aedan, and hopefully getting updates done more often (Its also half the reason I did the Lost Memory chapters, I could just about get them done for crashing). That's enough ranting from me, we now return you to the scheduled mayhem._

* * *

They were surrounded, the Children hissing as they darted back and forth at the Grey Wardens, their claws slashing against the cold metal of the Wardens' armour. As soon as one of the party would kill one of the grub-like Darkspawn, two more would skitter over its body, attacking the Wardens. Looking around, Aedan could see the group was in danger of being overwhelmed. Nathaniel's bow had been damaged, the string broken, the nobleman now resorted to his daggers to fend off the enemy. Sigrun was slowing down, the injuries the Dwarf had suffered near the surface were tiring her. Velanna fared little better, as her hands bathed in fire, burned the creatures before her, doing little to stem the horde attacking them. Losing focus for a second, Aedan almost missed the Childer that leapt at him, grabbing it at the last second and crushing it's throat in his gauntleted hand. As he threw it's ruined body to the ground, the Commander swung his blade low, swatting away several of the creatures, and gave himself room to manoeuvre.

A cry behind him caused Aedan to turn, and he saw Nathaniel fall, as one of the Children bite into his leg, the scent of blood sending the Darkspawn into a frenzy. In an instant Aedan ran towards his fellow Grey Warden, slashing at the Darkspawn as he pulled Nathaniel away from their grasp, placing the rogue into Sigrun's hands, the Legionnaire helping him to Velanna as she prepared to cast a shield around the party. Aedan turned to join the others, he could see the mage's intent clear as Velanna's hands crackled with fire, and fell as several of the Children latched onto his legs. As soon as he fell, the Children swarmed over Aedan, the Commander struggling against the press of bodies, but more and more of the new Darkspawn attacked him.

Sigrun tried to go back to the Warden, only to be stopped by the force field that Velanna had cast around them. All the three could do was watch as Aedan disappeared beneath a writhing mass of bodies, no cries or screams uttered, even if it could have been heard over the chattering and screeching. Nathaniel had roused from his injuries and saw the attack, and could do nothing but cry out to the Commander.

All any of them could was watch as Aedan slowly died.

* * *

Candles surrounded the library, casting soft shadows over the small dusty stacks of discarded books. While he could see perfectly well in the darkness, he knew those approaching would have difficulty, lives spent on the surface did little to prepare them for a world of shadows in the Deep Roads. _Strange, considering that for the choice they make, they must eventually end their lives here, in futile battle against us. But if this works, it shall end, this needless cycle of death and slavery may end._

Heavy footfalls broke the Architect's train of thought as a Darkspawn, clad in scavenged Dwarven armour entered the chamber. A chain coif hung above it's face, lined with brutal scars, the reminder of a lifetime spent battling. A large, crudely forged sword was sheathed on it's back, slung over the Disciple's shoulder. A lipless smile cut across it's face as it reported to the Architect. As it spoke, the Disciple revealed a mouth full of broken and yellow teeth, it's voice guttural as it brutalized the Common Tongue. "We have broken into Kal'Hirol, be fighting the Mother's forces now. The Lost is gone from the battle, deeper into the Dwarven hole, we break them, just as you be asking of us!"

Still staring at the book before it, the Architect nodded, raising a hand, long, withered fingers briefly moving in acknowledgement. Before the Disciple left, the Architect steadied itself, wheezing as it responded to the report. "And what of the Grey Wardens? Have they reached the Hold yet?"

"We don't know, the watch-creatures we sent have not brought word of the blood ones. Be pressing the attack again?"

The Architect waved the question away, the Emissary returning to it's studies. "Regrettably we must kill our own, but they cannot be allowed to stop us. Continue the attack. We must stop **her** and the army she is creating there."

The Disciple hissed at the reference and stormed out of the library, roaring throughout the corridor for the others to attack.

Closing the book, the Architect left the desk and made its way to a table on the far side of the library, a small cloud of dust forming with each step as the robes trailed behind the Architect. Four small vials stood on the table, the contents black, as the blood contained within remained exposed to the cloying air of the chamber. Behind the vials was a bronze chalice, battered through use, age and war, the rim caked in dried blood. Here was how the Disciples were created, just as the Grey Wardens used the blood of the Darkspawn to induct new members, so too did the Architect use the blood of Grey Wardens to create his followers, granting them a freedom from the Calling that affected all Darkspawn.

As he poured the contents of the vials into the chalice, the Darkspawn withdrew a small jar of lyrium, the soft humming of the mineral filling the air of the library as Utha entered, pausing and motioning for the two hooded figures behind her to stay away as the Architect completed the ritual. In its raw form lyrium had the potential to drive Humans and Elves insane, and to kill a mage outright. Only the Dwarves could safely handle it, and even than they were not completely immune to it's effects, it would only take a sliver, even a couple of particles of the dust to enter an open wound and the bloodstream and it would begin to slowly destroy a Dwarf's mind. The former Grey Warden breathed a sigh of relief as the Architect placed the jar back into its robes.

"I am done Utha. Please, allow our guests in. I have much to discuss with them."

The pair brushed aside the Dwarf, the look of disdain apparent even as their faces were shrouded. The leader carried a mage's staff, the head crafted from red steel into a pair of serpents intertwined together as they both sought to devour a piece of pure frostrock. The warrior behind her bore a curved blade, similar to the swords carried by the soldiers of Tevinter, a shield slung across his back, bearing a Griffon rampant. The mage stepped forward, piercing blue eyes staring at the Architect, her thick Orlesian accent frosting the air as she spoke, anger mixed with indignation.

"When we made our agreement with you and your kind, Darkspawn." She spat out the last word, as if saying it would leave a bitter taste in her mouth. "We did not expect you would so easily turn against us. Why did your forces attack Vigil's Keep? You killed good men that we could ill afford to lose in the first place."

The Architect turned from his work, attempting to calm Utha as the Dwarf moved forward, her sword drawn. The hooded warrior intercepted her, his blade unsheathed and at her throat in one smooth motion. "Utha that will not be necessary." The Dwarf nodded and placed her sword back into its place, the warrior doing the same. As he did so, his cloak fell, revealing the face of a man in his forties, once handsome, now half scaled as the Taint within him corrupted his body. Where once he had thick blond hair, what was left was thin, brittle and looked as though it would fall out in clumps. What emotion could be discerned from his remaining human eye was obvious; anger, bitterness, rage and hatred all burned brightly in the green eye. Tarven Duveaux was undergoing the Calling, and had been for the last two years.

Seeing her companion seethe with rage, the mage reached out, resting her hand on her lover's arm, briefly calming the warrior, her own anger rising now. Turning back, she glared at the Architect, waiting for an answer.

"It was unfortunate, but I sent the Withered to Vigil's Keep to offer an alliance between the Grey Wardens and I. But the Humans at the fortress believed it to be an attack. The Withered was forced to defend itself as the Commander of the Grey Wardens joined the battle." Utha had stationed herself to the Architect's side, steadying it as it explained what had happened. "But you told me that you could convince him to join us, when I spoke to him he was defiant, almost willing to kill me. Tell me, why do you wish for a man like that to join us, Savine?"

The mage lowered her hood, ringlets dark brown hair falling across an Elven face brimming with anger. "Because in five Blights Aedan Cousland is the only Grey Warden who has survived the slaying of an Archdemon. I do not want him to join us, I want him to die, I want his blood to reverse this!" Savine tore away the long white glove from her hand, revealing a tainted gnarled claw-like hand. "You have done nothing to help us Architect, despite your promises to the contrary!"

* * *

Their teeth bit past his armour, into his flesh and drawing blood. The Children went wild, their attacks becoming more frenzied now as they tasted Aedan's blood. Pain flared throughout his body with each new bite. The blood was flowing free now, and with each second Aedan felt weaker and weaker, his efforts to drive the creatures off from him now becoming futile. He thought he had heard someone scream his name, but they had been drowned out by the screeches of the Darkspawn.

Time slowed for Aedan, allowing the Warden to clearly see his killers make their attacks. Every strike and bite pained him less and less now, the blood loss sending him into shock. As his world darkened, all Aedan could do was think of **her**, his love, the pain he had caused her with that love, and the pain she felt now because of the ring he wore, the ring she had given him. All he could do as a Childer crawled towards his neck was whisper "I'm sorry."

Time froze.

"**Not yet! I'm not done with having my fun with you. Such a shame to waste those gifts given to you. Remember that our dance is not over yet"**

The voice that had haunted Aedan for the past seven months was now screaming in his mind, taunting him. He could feel something tear free from inside his mind, something savage, hungering for pain and blood. His body began to convulse as the blood around his body began to draw back towards him, coating his body and began to harden, before time unfroze and crashed back to speed in an explosion of the Children and his blood.

Without thinking, Velanna dropped the force field, allowing Nathaniel to sprint towards Aedan, dragging his body back as the Children recovered and began their attack again. Making sure the four of them were close enough, Velanna cast her force field again, protecting the party from the Children as the mage prepared for the next stage of her plan. Chanting Dalish words of power, the air around the magical shield began to heat and crackle. Even within the shield Nathaniel could feel the heat as he and Sigrun furiously tried to staunch Aedan's wounds, the nobleman's normally cool façade almost cracking as he realised Aedan sacrificed himself to save him.

The courtyard entrance to Kal'Hirol exploded in an inferno of fire and death as Velanna completed her spell. The blaze tore through the Children, incinerating them. Even dying the creatures threw themselves at the Grey Wardens, screaming as they burned. The spell only ended as Velanna exhausted herself from her efforts, but she had done her task. What Children remained had retreated, though the party knew it would only be a matter of time before the Darkspawn would recover themselves and attack again, the skittering in the shadows growing louder.

Nathaniel hoisted Aedan to his shoulder, a weak groan the only response. "We have to get somewhere safer! Before those things come back!"

"These old thaigs have secret entrances, usually leading to an armoury or a vault room, we can get him there and try to take care of these injuries." Sigrun had moved beside Aedan, helping Nathaniel support the bloodsoaked man, Nathaniel nodding in thanks.

As the party left the courtyard, Velanna casting a fiery wall to guard their escape, none noticed the charred remains of the Children and the Darkspawn they had slaughtered breaking down and decaying, as wisps of energy escaped the dead bodies, and followed Aedan.

* * *

She awoke with a cry as she felt intense pain wrack her body. As she looked around the cottage, Morrigan tried to calm herself down, the nightmare she had disturbing her. Aedan had been reaching to her, his lips trying to say something, only for a strange warrior to appear, clad in black and silver armour, and tore at Aedan, it's vicious blade stabbing and slicing at her Grey Warden, cackling as it slaughtered Aedan.

What disturbed Morrigan more than anything was the overwhelming sense of familiarity the Warrior had, as if she knew who this monster was. As a tear rolled down her cheek, she hoped that it had only been that, a nightmare, and not a premonition.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Awakening"

The sounds of a war being raged echoed across the halls of Kal'Hirol, the clang of sword against shield, bestial roars and what felt like magical blasts reverberated through the stone of the thaig. As the Wardens stumbled in the pitch black of the tunnels, through the corridors and turns, one question kept repeating in Nathaniel Howe's mind…Why? Why did Aedan throw himself at the Children to save him? Why didn't Aedan just let the Darkspawn kill him? The Commander had plenty of chances to kill him since that morning when Aedan conscripted him, despite Nathaniel claiming he would kill Aedan for murdering his father, and yet he had saved him time and again. Why?

_Why is it that after everything that my father did to you and your family, to Ferelden, that you would do this, Aedan? You could have just ended the stain on Ferelden's honour and wipe out the Howe name. But you didn't…Why?_

As he struggled to help Aedan stay on his feet, his armour and hands slick with the Commander's blood, he was determined to find out the reason. Adjusting Aedan's weight on his shoulder, Nathaniel glanced at the Warden, his skin pale and cool, beads of sweat trailed across his brow. His breath was weak, coming in short, shallow bursts. Nathaniel thought he could hear Aedan mumbling something, though whatever it could be was lost in incoherency, what little pieces he could understand sounded like apologies to some unnamed person.

"Don't apologise yet Aedan. We'll get you help. Just…Just keep fighting. You're good at that."

* * *

Dawn was approaching, the generations of magical potions and elixirs dumped into the lake helped to cast vibrant hues of blue and red across the waters of Lake Calenhad. Stirring in his room in the Spoiled Princess Inn, Aedan smiled to himself as he sat up, pleased to have had a decent night's rest for once. He dressed quietly so as not to disturb Morrigan, still blissfully asleep, a satisfied smile curling her lips. As he washed his face in the basin, the Warden couldn't but help think that he loved these few moments in the morning, the peace, the calm, her scent still gently mingling with his. And while he was loathe to do so, Aedan slowly walked across the room, kneeling next to the bed, and teased the hair from Morrigan's face, her eyes fluttering open, the hint of a smile as she saw Aedan's face.

"Sorry to wake you, but as much fun as it might be to spend the day in bed with you, I have work to do."

The Witch held the sheet to her breasts as she rose, wrapping the fabric around her near flawless skin. He knew she loved to tease him like this in the morning, reminding him of their nights together, allowing little glimpses of her body as she sought her clothes. "Hmmm, 'twould be more enjoyable than seeking the help of the Circle of Magi."

Pulling the padded shirt over his head, Aedan stole a glance as the sheet dropped slightly as Morrigan knelt to retrieve her boot. "Oh, of that I have no doubt. And the company here is far more entertaining."

Sensing he was staring, Morrigan peered over her shoulder, scoffing at the compliment. "And do you believe trying to flatter me will make me forget about our discussion last night?"

Handing her the discarded blouse, Aedan turned his back, trying to grant Morrigan a measure of privacy as she dressed. "No, I thought what we did right after the argument would take care of that."

Having fastened her skirt, Morrigan picked up the cuirass, placing it in Aedan's hands. "You are not **that** good, Warden."

Nodding his thanks, Aedan took the armour and began to secure the buckles, cocking an eyebrow at the attempted insult. "Really? Because the way you kept saying my name last night told me otherwise."

She blushed, trying to hide it by checking under the bed for her other boot, muttering. "Fool."

Checking the pauldrons of the plate armour, Aedan found the other boot, hanging on the hook of the door. How it got there, he wasn't sure, but there it was. "Would you have it any other way?" His tone became more serious as he placed it on the bed. "But you know I'm right. If the rumours about the Circle are true, and it is overrun with abominations, there will be a tower full of paranoid, lyrium deprived Templars, who would have no qualms about attacking a mage on sight."

Morrigan shot up, indignation in her eyes as she realised he was trying to coddle her again. "And you think I am afraid of the Templars? Or the Chantry? I have been evading their reach my entire….."

He cut her off. "And I won't put you in needless danger!" Seeing the anger bubble inside her, Aedan grabbed his swords and left the room, pausing in the doorway. "I'm sorry, Morrigan."

* * *

Sigrun dared to look back at the Wardens as she led the way through the shadows. The Legionnaire had never known that much about the Grey Wardens, save for the fact that they were the only warriors who knew what the Legion of the Dead went through in the Deep Roads and who had once been considered heroes to the surface. Even when they came to the Deep Roads to die, they were supposedly fierce, often accompanying patrols and slaughtering Darkspawn by the dozen. Perhaps it was the tales told around the fires at night, or perhaps it was the image she had created in her own mind, but Sigrun had always thought that the Grey Wardens were invincible warriors. Now looking at the two men, one injured, the other slowly dying, she could see they were just that, men, nothing more. They were men, and women who willingly went into battle against the Darkspawn, and who died, forgotten and unmourned by the surface world. Batting away a large cobweb, Sigrun began to realise that they despite the fact they weren't invincible, they still carried on fighting, even against such terrible odds. _Maybe they really are heroes._

Peering ahead, Sigrun noticed a familiar marking carved into the wall. She hissed back to the Wardens, "Over here! There's an old armoury here. The lock looks secure, we should be alright. Come on! Move your feet!"

Opening the door, Sigrun turned back, and saw the Warden Commander almost slide from under the grasp of the other Warden. Rushing forward, the Dwarf tried to grab the injured man, her grip almost slipping across the blood soaked armour, indeed, it was only the way her gauntlets had become caught on the chainmail collar that prevented the Warden from falling to the ground.

She could see the concern in the other Wardens' faces, though in the case of the Elf, it might have been concern about being left near the Deep Roads without the veteran Grey Warden. The Human, looked guilt ridden, as if it should have been him bleeding to death, not the Warden Commander. Trying to cheer them up, Sigrun hefted Aedan to her shoulders, and moved his arm in a wave. "See? He isn't dead yet, so let's get him inside now."

* * *

It had nearly been a week since the battle in the Circle of Magi, and a week since he had found that tome in the First Enchanter's office. Black, wrinkled leather protected the crisp, yellowed pages contained within, a lone silver tree, it's branches bare, was the only decoration engraved upon the leather. Realising it was similar to several of the tomes Morrigan carried with her on their travels, Aedan had stored the book in his pack, perhaps to apologise for his outburst at the inn, or perhaps to just help her expand her knowledge.

Her face shone at the surprise of Aedan producing the book from his pack, even as his armour was still covered in the blood of abominations, the trials of the tower weighing heavily on his body, his entrapment in the Fade still fresh in his mind. He was tired, mentally and physically, but as he saw her smile, none of that mattered. Even as he sat on the bed, his body urging him to sleep, all he cared about was that smile. That smile, which was the first thing he saw in the morning, the last thing at night, which made everything he did worthwhile.

That smile, that had disappeared as Aedan came closer and closer to Morrigan's tent.

She stood to greet him, a pained look set in her eyes. "I have studied mother's Grimoire, do you wish to know what I have found?"

"Yes, of course." The Warden reached out to her, to embrace her, Morrigan moved just out his grasp, holding the book close to her chest as she walked around the fire.

Finally stopping before the fire, Morrigan spoke, staring into the flames. As word sounded panicked, afraid, so unlike the Morrigan Aedan had met in the Wilds, so unlike the woman he was falling in…. "I had thought it to be a pathway to the power my mother wields. And yet…"

He wrapped his arm around her, turning the Witch towards him, his hand tilting her head upwards. "And yet you seemed disturbed."

"Disturbed? Yes that one way to put it. I thought that the book would be a collection of her lost spells, of how to perform some of her more complex rituals. 'Tis not what I have found within though. I know now how my mother has remained alive for all these years."

Nothing else needed to be said, as Morrigan began to tremble in his arms, the book dropping to the ground. As he drew her closer to him, Aedan tried to soothe her, whispering. "What is it Morrigan? Please, tell me. Let me try to help."

"Over the years, my mother has raised many daughters, yet I have never seen a one. And now I know why… They are all Flemeth. When she becomes old and wizened, my mother raises a daughter and when the time is right, she possesses their body, making it her own. I recognise all of it, the training, the preparation; I am to be her next host!"

"I'm sorry Morrigan."

The Witch pushed away from his embrace, anger now overtaking the fear she felt a moment ago. "Do not feel sorry for me! There is only one course of action I can take now, and I will need your help. You have to seek out Flemeth, and slay her. That will not stop her, but it should buy me time to figure out how best to defend myself. What I truly need is her true Grimoire. I cannot go, I… I fear that if she dies while I am present, there is nothing to prevent from possessing me."

"I won't let that happen, Morrigan. I swear it."

* * *

Pulling the heavy chainmail over Aedan's head, Velanna began to wish she had paid more attention to Ilshae when the Keeper had tried to teach her some of the more powerful healing spells. The armour was torn, almost ruined by the Children's attacks and bites. The bandages Sigrun and Nathaniel had managed to wrap around his injuries were sodden with blood, doing little to stem the blood loss now. Peeling back the fabric, Velanna began to chant an ancient Dalish prayer, her fingers weaving intricate patterns in the Commander's wounds. _By all rights he should be dead now, were he Dalish, Falon'Din would be preparing to guide him beyond the Veil. Still, as much as I hate the Shemlen, we need him, if only to help guide us through the Deep Roads._ Neither she nor Nathaniel had quite developed the ability to sense Darkspawn, and neither Warden wished to stumble into an ambush with a dying man or an apparently unhinged Dwarf.

Sealing one wound, Velanna started on another, pausing as she felt a presence enter the room. She scanned the room, and almost missed them, several small wisps of light, tumbling across the stone floor of the vault, swirling around her body. Nathaniel saw nothing, the magical energies at play were invisible to those who did not have a connection to the Beyond.

The wisps hovered over Aedan's body, slowly lowering into his wounds, the tears and gashes in his flesh sealing as the wisps disappeared. Unsure what had just happened, Velanna stepped in closer, peering at where the wounds had been, before Aedan's body began to thrash and convulse violently. Velanna threw herself onto the Commander's body, trying to prevent him injuring himself any further. Nathaniel and Sigrun bounded forward, the Dwarf holding his head as Nathaniel pressed down on his flailing legs.

Fearing she would have to cast a force field on Aedan, Velanna felt a hand on her shoulder, Nathaniel's. The Warden pointed to the Commander, his body calm now, his skin pinking up slightly. Fear and surprise ran through her mind, a thousand explanations tried to rationalise what had just occurred. The Commander's chest was rising slowly, but steadily. Grabbing a torch from it's mounting on the wall, the Elf prised Aedan's eyelid open and in the darkness, she thought she saw a deep redness fade into the green of his eyes in the instant the torch passed over his eyes.

A hand shot up, gripping her hand in a vice like grip, the eye looking right back into Velanna's. Struggling free, Velanna backed away as Aedan swung his legs off the stone table Sigrun and Nathaniel had rested him on. Something about his demeanour, his stance, even the way he breathed, terrified the Wardens and Sigrun. His eyes stared at the trio, aflame with intensity, even hidden beneath the strands of thick black hair shrouding his face. In a voice that Velanna could barely hear, he spoke, the words creeping into her mind, dredging up past nightmares and fears, long thought lost and buried.

"Where are the Darkspawn?"

Nathaniel stepped forward, trying to ensure Aedan stayed seated. "Commander, you need to rest. You've been badly injured, in fact you shouldn't even be sitting."

"Worried I might be in pain, Nathaniel?" It was the grin Aedan offered more than anything that scared the Rogue, almost demonic, as if some denizen of the Fade had crossed over.. "The only pain to be felt this day will be the suffering I inflict upon the Darkspawn."

Aedan slid of the table, searching for his discarded armour, and throwing the ruined chainmail to the ground. "I need armour!"

* * *

The camp had been set up exactly where Alistair had agreed to set it. Shale had been standing watch as Aedan, Oghren, Zevran and Beast walked into camp, their armour still bloody after their battle against Flemeth. It had never occurred to Aedan that in spite the tales he had heard about Flemeth that she had many abilities that were never told in tales around the camp fire. Like being able to turn into a High Dragon. It had almost been a massacre, the speed and ferocity of the battle now little more than a blur in his mind. Somehow he had managed to find his way onto Flemeth's neck, his family's sword in hand, and the weak spot in a Dragon's armour in sight. As he drove the blade deep between the scales of the neck, hot fiery blood exploded from the wound, drenching him in the Witch's blood, some of the vile concoction spilling into his mouth.

Thankfully, it had been the killing blow, Flemeth's body thrashing to the ground, unmoving. It had been a miracle that the only injury the party had suffered was the assault on Aedan's taste buds. Even now, in camp, he could still taste the vile liquid, even gargling some of Oghren's home brew did little to remove the taste. As the Elf and Dwarf made their way to their tents, Aedan nodded his thanks. Beast tried to follow his master, but the temptation of resting next to the roaring fire proved too much, the hound curling up as Aedan stroked the Mabari's head.

Satisfied his friend was asleep, Aedan unslung the pack from his back, making sure the item within was still there, despite checking on it almost hourly since the battle against Flemeth. Sighing in relief the book had not somehow escaped and made it's way back to the Wilds, Aedan made his way to Morrigan's tent. The Witch was asleep, exhaustion and the worry of the past days had finally caught up with her. Kneeling beside her, Aedan freed his hand from the heavy gauntlet, the metal stained with drying blood, a testimony to the dampness of the Korcari Wilds. He stroked her hair, rousing the Witch from her slumber.

Blinking in the light of the fire, Morrigan had looked at Aedan, almost disbelieving that the Warden was before her. "You have returned from the Wilds? What of Fle…."

He pressed a finger against her lips, silencing her. "You're safe now, Morrigan." Aedan reached for the pack, and withdrew a bundle, enclosed in a velvet wrap, protecting it from the cold and moisture of the Wilds. "Here is your mother's grimoire. I'm sorry that it had to happen like this."

She held the book, gingerly touching the cover, as if afraid this was some cruel dream. Realising that this was no dream, Morrigan looked up, smiling at Aedan as she caressed the silver tree gracing the cover. "You have my thanks, Aedan. I will be study of this immediately. I know that my mother will return one day, but with this, I can hunt her down and prevent her from taking my body, again, and again if needs be. But, let us not talk of that now, I have you to thank for saving me. So let us return to the task at hand."

Stroking her face, Aedan smiled, pleased he could help her be free. "You'll never have to thank me Morrigan. I will always protect you."

"I… You…You should not talk about such things. There is still much to be done before…There is still much to be done."

Nodding, Aedan stood up, starting back to his own tent. Before he had taken a step, he felt Morrigan grab his hand, the Witch pulling herself up and brought her lips to Aedan's. Her fingers intertwined with his, the passion growing, Morrigan pushed away, breathless, her free hand brushing Aedan's hair back ."Stay…Tonight."

_She's safe, that's all that matters._

"Of course Morrigan."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Love and Hate"

Pain coursed throughout his body with every step he took. The world around him spun violently as the Commander kept moving forward. Each movement caused his limbs to scream in agony, his lungs to feel as though they were burning, begging him for rest, to recover, to heal. And yet, Aedan knew he could not stop, not while his task still lay before him. That was all that mattered now, to finish the mission, even if it would cost him everything, including his life.

Behind him, Velanna, Nathaniel and Sigrun tried to keep up with the Commander, wary of the shadows surrounding them and of the Man who only moments before had been awaiting death. To them, the manner in which he recovered, and his actions afterwards, seemed unnatural, that he was prepared to battle Darkspawn so readily even more so. Something had snapped, or perhaps had been released, within Aedan, and for the time being, it would be best to remain behind him, out of his reach.

He knew the others feared for him, that driving himself too hard now would do more damage in the long run, that it might kill him, not that he cared what they thought. Nathaniel had tried to insist that Aedan stayed behind while he and Sigrun scouted ahead, to seek safe passage. A glare from the Commander silenced his fellow Grey Warden and put pay to any argument from the others. Even as he salvaged a set of Dwarven plate armour from its previous owner, he could taste the fear emanating from the others behind him, and in the darkness, smiled, savouring the sweet intoxicating flavour on his tongue.

What the fools didn't know was that the pain felt…amazing. Instead of slowing him, it had fuelled him, sending surges of energy through him. Even in the darkness of the thaig, in the mental haze of the blood loss he had suffered, Aedan could feel his world sharpen. All around him he could feel it, in the stone, in the air. Time and decay had not lessened its power, indeed, as the sounds of a battle raged before Aedan, the coppery tang of spilt blood overwhelmed his senses. The powers of pain…fear…death, it was delicious, and Aedan hungered for more. Drowning out his body's screams with a demonic snarl and unsheathing his sword, Aedan began his hunt for fresh prey.

In the Market Square of the thaig, a brutal war was taking place as Darkspawn fought against Darkspawn. Crudely made swords clashed against battered and scarred armour as Hurlocks killed each other. The black fletched arrows of a party of Genlocks slammed into the corrupted flesh of an Ogre barrelling towards them. One of the creatures tried to escape before the behemoth crashed into the party, only to be skewered upon the horns. The Ogre tore at the Genlocks, crushing one beneath its heavy foot, swinging the boulder of a hand at another, snapping its back like a twig. The battle had been over in a matter of seconds, the Ogre ripping the last Genlock apart in victory, bellowing for a new challenger. Almost immediately, the reply came from a Hurlock Emissary, weaving its arms in the air and bathing the Ogre in a magical fire, stripping away the dense flesh and muscle from its bones. The Ogre defiantly tried to reach the Emissary as it was burned alive. The Emissary managed a lipless sneer and launched a shard of ice at the Ogre, killing the beast once and for all.

Aedan charged towards the Emissary, a wordless cry on his lips. The Darkspawn fired a magical bolt at the Warden, Aedan spun on his foot, avoiding the blast with contemptuous ease. Bringing his sword above his head, the Warden slashed down, cutting deep into the Darkspawn's chest, black blood spilling over the patchwork armour. As he brought himself to a halt behind the Emissary, Aedan shook the blood from the blade, taking in the scent of death before him. As the creature tried to raise its clawed hand to cast a spell, the Warden swung the blade again, cleaving through the hand at the wrist. Sneering, Aedan used the momentum of the swing to bring the sword back, aiming for the Emissary's neck, mocking the Darkspawn as he ended its life. "Sorry, was I too quick for you?"

As the lifeless body slumped to the hard stone, already desiccated as Aedan fed on the escaping life energy of the Emissary, a group of Hurlocks, led by an Alpha, broke away from the battle, moving towards the lone Warden. Feeling new energy flow through him, Aedan snarled, drawing his dagger from the sheathe on his belt. Fire blazed in his eyes as he levelled the sword towards the Alpha, the snarl now replaced with a vicious cackle as he waved the blade in a flourish, splattering the blood onto his armour and face. "It's going to be a massacre, and **none** of you are going to get out alive!"

* * *

Despite herself, Morrigan found her hand shaking, even now, in the light of morning; the nightmare she had suffered still affected her. It had been so vivid, more so than any dream she ever had. In it, Aedan had stood before her, tired, hurt, alone. He had tried to reach out to her, only to be cut down by that black armoured Warrior. Each time Aedan tried to defend himself, the warrior would bring down the wicked bloody blade it carried; hacking away at the Warden's armour, while all Morrigan could do was watch, until finally a sickening crunch resounded around her, and Aedan struggled no more.

The Warrior turned towards Morrigan, cackling to itself as the fallen Warden's blood streaked the jet armour, relishing in the carnage it had wrought. Raising the blade towards the young woman, the intent was clear. She would not escape its grasp either.

Hissing at her, the Warrior slowly started to walk towards her, a raspy voice calling out to Morrigan. "There is no knight in glistening armour to save you anymore. You are alone, and you will be claimed, little girl. You cannot escape."

Morrigan awoke, panicked, a silent gasp escaping her lips. The nightmare had seemed so real, as if she could still feel his blood spray against her skin. She knew she had asked him to never follow, and yet despite of the promise he had made, or rather in spite of it, Morrigan reached out, trying to sense the Grey Warden. And found nothing. Even when she could feel the anger Aedan felt towards himself, Morrigan could still find him with ease. Yet this morning, she could feel nothing, no anger, no guilt, nothing of Aedan, only an overwhelming darkness, hanging over the Warden.

Realising her hand had stopped trembling; Morrigan reached out for the heavy tome, Flemeth's Grimoire, the yellowing pages falling to an often read page, the Witch's slender finger scanning the pages for some answer for what she saw, at the same time trying to soothe her unborn child with memories of her time with its father.

* * *

A cool compress lay upon her brow as she stirred. As her eyes fluttered open, Morrigan could see a worried smile on Aedan's face as he removed the compress, wiping the lingering droplets of water with a dry cloth. His eyes were tired, his clothes slightly crumpled from having slept in the chair by the bed, a shadow forming along his jaw, the same shadow that would develop when Aedan did not shave for at least two days. It was only as she looked around the chamber did Morrigan remember what happened. The Wardens had arrived in Redcliffe and found the town under siege by the undead and after helping to defend the village, Aedan and Alistair had set off to discover the source of misfortune that held sway over the village. Battling their way through Castle Redcliffe, they found it, Arl Eamon's son Connor, a young boy who had recently developed magical abilities, had been possessed by a Desire demon. At first the only options available to the Wardens had been to either kill the child, or to sacrifice the Arlessa, Connor's mother, allowing a single mage to travel to the Fade and defeated the demon there. Aedan had refused flat out to kill either person, instead resorting to returning to Kinloch Hold, seeking the aid of the Circle of Magi. In the end, it had been Morrigan who ventured into the Fade and fought the demon, alone. As she remembered the battle, the Witch also recalled a fact that Bann Teagan had revealed to the party, her eyes widening in anger.

Folding the cloth and placing it on the bedside table, Aedan turned back to Morrigan, his voice concerned. "Are you alright? Would you like something to drink?"

Morrigan glared at the Warden, lines lightly crossing her brow as she brimmed with fury. "I am fine, so I do not see the point of you coddling me!" Pushing herself off the bed, the Witch searched for her boots, stopping as her vision swam. Before Aedan even rose from the chair, Morrigan held her hand, lightning crackling around the delicate fingers. Recovered, she spoke again, her manner scornful. "The boy, Connor, is safe, is he not? So should you not be talking with Bann Teagan about how to save the Arl, or whatever it is you nobles discuss."

Aedan said nothing at first, instead slumping into the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And here we go."

Morrigan spun around, anger in her eyes, pointing at the Warden accusingly. "You lied to me! 'Tis not something I appreciate."

He shot up from the chair, his own anger matching hers. "I did not lie to you!"

"You are the son of a Teyrn, quite possibly the most powerful man in Ferelden now that the King is dead. And yet you have us traipsing across this land looking for allies when you could have….."

"I am the son of a dead man!" Snapping, Aedan paced around the room, running his hand through his hair, trying to keep the thick locks away from his face.

Confused, both by the Warden's sudden change in demeanour and his response, Morrigan could only ask a simple "What?"

Finally pausing before a bookcase, Aedan stretched his arms out, gripping one of the shelves, resting his head against the heavy oaken panel. "Yes, I admit it. I am Aedan Mather Cousland, and I am the second son of Teyrn Bryce and Eleanor Cousland. And my family is dead. They were murdered, Morrigan, by a traitor and a man my father considered his closet friend!"

As she listened to him speak, Morrigan noticed Aedan had almost changed. The brave Grey Warden she had met in the Korcari Wilds had become a simple man, unleashing months of pent up pain, reminding himself of the buried horrors of his past, now mourning his family.

Refusing to move away from the bookcase and the stability it provided, Aedan continued, his voice sounding hollow as he explained the events of that fateful night. "They say that Grey Wardens pay a high price to fight the Darkspawn. I paid an even higher price to become a Grey Warden. As my father prepared to send my brother and our soldiers to Ostagar, Arl Rendon Howe decided to take advantage of our home being left with only a handful of troops to defend it. Attacking in the night, his troops began to slaughter everyone in the castle, beginning with my brother's wife and my nephew as they slept in their beds."

Morrigan remained silent, unwilling to interrupt the Warden as he revealed each new horror to her.

"My mother and I managed to fight our way through a number of Howe's troops, searching for my father. All around us men sworn to defend our family died, cut down like wheat at harvest. They gave their lives to protect ours…"

Aedan pushed himself away from the bookcase, a number of the lone tomes falling over with the force, small clouds of dust kicking up as they fell. He began to pace around the room, at times picking up seemingly random items, examining them before putting them back in their place. "We found my father near the servants' exit, his belly sliced open. You know what that's like, to have you hands slick with blood as you press against a wound like that, looking into the eyes of someone who loved you and knowing they are dying, and that there is nothing you can do to help them?"

He paused by the bowl of water, picking up the damp compress and began to wring the water from it. "You know that I was conscripted by Duncan, because I refused to join the Grey Wardens while my father lay dying right in front of me? I had to be knocked out and dragged out of the castle."

Morrigan could only watch as Aedan tore apart the compress, tearing into himself. "The last image I have of my parents is my father clutching his belly, try to stop the last of his blood from spilling out onto the stone floor, apologising to my mother for the way their lives had to end, while my mother caressed his face, telling him they lived a good life."

"It is quite likely that I am the last member of my family, Morrigan, so you'll have to excuse me if it is something I don't want to be reminded of **constantly**! Or perhaps from now on, I can avoid all this by hiring a herald, who could ride into a town, announcing my arrival. "Hear ye, hear ye. Here comes Aedan Cousland, a man who failed spectacularly to protect his family from an opportunistic little worm!" It isn't the greatest proclaimation, but I'm sure that the herald could come up with something better, don't you think?"

"Stop it Aedan!" She had had enough of the Warden flagellating himself. Walking towards him, Morrigan rested her hand upon his cheek, brushing his hair away from his face, the two day beard scraping against her hand.

"Stop blaming yourself." She looked into his eyes, and for the first time saw the pain and guilt dwelling in Aedan. And though she wished to comfort him, Morrigan found she had no words, no idea of how to begin. In her own life she had never experienced warm or a soothing word from another person until she met the Warden, and now, when he needed it, the Witch could not help him. "You survived a terrible betrayal. You have witnessed things that no person should ever see. You might not have wished to be a Grey Warden, but I do not see you leaving either. Your parents gave up their lives to protect yours. They thought that you could do some good, and perhaps you have. I...I am sorry for your loss Aedan."

His hand rose up, resting on hers. The pain changing to regret. "No…No, I should be the one apologising to you. I shouldn't have kept it from you, or the others. I'm sorry Morrigan."

She knew that once, she might have ridiculed Aedan for the weakness he had shown her, but time and again the Warden had been so determined, refusing to stand by while others suffered, much to her annoyance. Looking into those green eyes, Morrigan began to understand why Aedan could never let what the pain he had suffered happen to anyone else. _He has lost so many of his loved ones, is that why Aedan refused to let me accompany him into the Circle Tower, why he willingly went to stop Flemeth without a care for his own safety…Does he…Does he love me? The fool! And yet, I look at him, and I can feel the pain he is suffering and all I wish to do is comfort him... Do I love him? Foolish girl…Why must you do this to yourself! It will only make what must be done so much harder._

Alone in the chamber, Morrigan drew Aedan closer to her, embracing the Warden, trying to ease his pain the only way she knew how.

* * *

The last Hurlock fell, its skin shrivelling and falling away even before it hit the ground. Knowing he was alone, Aedan allowed himself a moment to savour the carnage he had created. The scent of death was in the air and it exhilarated him. For too long the Warden had let himself suffer, to endure pain needlessly. But no more. The pleasures of slaughtering the Darkspawn made him feel alive again, awakening something in him that had been left to slumber for so long. And now it was free, releasing Aedan in the process, allowing him to kill, to torture, to devour the fear of his enemies.

And he loved every second of it.

For the past several months he had felt as though he had lived in a haze, unfeeling and dead to the world. Looking back he was sickened by how much he had allowed himself to fall. All the wasted opportunities, spent being sullen and remorseful. He was the Arl of Amaranthine, the Warden Commander of Ferelden and a scion of House Cousland. The people loved and respected him, the land was all but his, and he had just sat on his ass feeling sorry for himself. This was a new day for him, and a chance lay before him to show the world what he could really do. _To quote that idiot Cailan…"Glorious!"_

The sound of approaching footsteps behind caused Aedan to turn, expecting more of the tainted bastards, only to see Nathaniel, Velanna and Sigrun enter the chamber. From the look of them, they had been side tracked, allowing themselves to be bogged down trying to clear out pockets of Darkspawn, leaving Aedan to do the lion's share of the killing.

He mockingly gave them a bow, welcoming them to the battle, the sarcasm ripping through them. "So glad you decided to honour me with an appearance. Now, if it's alright with you, I'd like to get back to finishing off hunting down the broodmothers and getting out of here. I've had enough of the thaigs and the Deep Roads."

Before the others could even catch their breath, Aedan had kicked up his blade, and set off without them, eager to continue the thrill of the hunt.

_Now it's my time._

Neither the Grey Wardens following nor the Legionnaire could hear it, but with each step Aedan took, a cackle grew louder and louder, revelling in what it had wrought.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's note:** Just a quick notice about the upcoming DLC, Witch Hunt. Yes. I know about it. Yes. I know it will be the end of Origins. Yes. I know something will happen to Morrigan. So what does this mean for Duty and Honour? Well probably not a lot. I have had the ending of the story written for several weeks now, so unless there are some major upsets in Witch Hunt, I ain't changin' it! Let me put it another way. I consider Duty and Honour to be the canon for Aedan Cousland,** my** Grey Warden. Were it any other character it would probably be a completely different story, but there you go. And that's enough from me, back to Aedan and co._

Chapter 20

"Shadows"

Shadows encircled the two figures as they made their way through the labyrinthine tunnels leading towards the surface. Every so often a small group of Genlocks or bands of Hurlocks would pass them, weapons drawn to attack, only to back away hissing as they caught the scent of the Architect. Though she had travelled these tunnels many times in the past three years, Savine still despised the blighted creatures that she and the others had aligned themselves with. She wanted to halt, to reverse the torment that Tarven and she suffered. All they had sacrificed and they were still no closer to freeing themselves from the Calling.

Had any of their former comrades in Val Royeaux or Jader had any inkling that she or Tarven were still alive, they would most certainly be hunted down like dogs now, slaughtered without hesitation. It was all Savine could do to not spit at the name of the Grey Wardens or the Architect. Time after time, she and her love had been forced to sacrifice so much, for what? A pointless cause that repeatedly fed the best of the world into an endless cycle of battle and death. And what reward would be there for them in the end? A death in the Deep Roads, or to become that which they had spent decades fighting. Was it fair that they had to give up so much, only to be forgotten by a world that could care less?

At first, it had seemed like a blessing when they had encountered the Architect in the ruins of an old thaig. The Darkspawn had explained itself, about it's desire to end the Blights, to cut the link between the Darkspawn and the Old Gods. It had offered them a release and freedom in exchange of a piece of information that all Grey Warden Commanders knew.

At the time it had seemed it a fair price.

And as the rage grew inside her, Savine noticed movement in the corner of her eye. A small snivelling shape, wrapped in rags of cloud, muttering to itself in its insanity. Immediately the mage knew what she was looked at in contempt. Though the Grey Wardens exposed themselves to the Darkspawn taint, it was treated with lyrium, before a single drop of Archdemon blood was added. This mixture allowed the Grey Wardens to become what they were, as well as handing them a slow death sentence. Before the pair however, was what happened when a person was exposed to just the taint. Open sores covered the mewling creature's skin, insane ramblings about the dark and wishing to hear the sweet song again. Many would become ghouls, actively seeking the Darkspawn, and often led short lives, dying of the taint, or killed for food by the Darkspawn.

Bloodshot eyes looked her, begging Savine to let it hear the song again.

The mage sneered at the former dwarf, scornful of the pitiful creature before her. "Oh, you will hear it again." Drawing her staff from it's clasp, Savine levelled the staff at the ghoul, and let loose a torrent of flame, only ending when the screeching stopped.

"I have had enough of this place, Tarven. Let us return to the others."

The Warrior nodded, following the mage, and crushed the smouldering remains of the dwarf beneath his iron shod boot.

* * *

Even in the torchlight, the armour gleamed. White steel embossed with gold plating had been polished to a mirror sheen, the pinnacle of a master smith's life and work. Strangely, the armour looked almost Human in design, rather than the typical Dwarven style. Where once it would have been a tight fit on the most muscular Dwarf, the armour had been modified time and again, supposedly to fit the ever expanding waist of Paragon Hirol. It seemed fitting that it would be here, in the sweltering heat of a lyrium forge, waiting to be repaired. Though the chest plate had been cracked by a Darkspawn weapon, Aedan hefted the armour in his hands, almost surprised to find the metal lighter than he had expected it to be. Looking back, Aedan could see the others exploring the forge, Nathaniel, searching for arrows for his quiver; Velanna had tried to keep as far as she could from the raw lyrium, briefly holding her head as the material sang to her. Standing beside the Warden, stood the Dwarf, Sigrun, peering intently at the runes engraved upon a nearby golem, standing watch of the forge, a smith's hammer In hand. He was becoming impatient with the Dwarf, who had kept reviewing lines and passages, mumbling to herself as she stumbled over the words. It was clear that Sigrun had only learned to read a short time ago, finding some of the larger and more complex words difficult to articulate.

As if sensing the Warden Commander's growing impatience, Sigrun straightened herself up, brushing away some of the dust from her as she delivered her report. "It looks like a golem designed to help the smiths here, you know, to perform repairs, work on the lyrium. It might still function, it might also be able to repair the armour."

_The Dwarf spent how long looking at the blasted golem and tells me it's a smith's tool. Oh bravo girl, I never would have guessed, yes, I must have missed the hammer in its hand and the anvil at its feet._

Turning the chest plate in his hands, Aedan caught sight of his reflection in the armour, and for a moment, thought he saw his skin wavering, shifting in the light. In a flash, his eyes seemed to change, the usual jade green becoming softer and softer, slowly replaced by a harsher yellow, almost gold colour. He blinked, and his eyes were green again.

What really disgusted him had been his hair, and the uncontrolled growth that some may have called a beard. The beard was matted and knotted with blood, it was disgraceful, as was the dry hair falling across his shoulders. It was unwashed, caked in dirt and clung to his head like a dead rat. He sneered to himself as he combed his gauntlet through the hair.

_That's another thing to fix, must remember to track down a razor when we get back to the Vigil, I truly look like crap, and we can't have that, now can we? I am a Cousland, not some disgusting animal._

"Well, there is one way to see if it works." Aedan placed the chest plate on the anvil, a slow, deep rumble groaned beside him as the golem grinded it's limbs, ready to perform it's anointed task. The hammer fell upon the armour again and again, the metal glowing as a lyrium fuelled fire heated the anvil. With each hammer stroke, Nathaniel and Velanna cocked their heads, trying to sense any approaching Darkspawn, wary of the din the golem was creating. Aedan chuckled to himself, taking pleasure in the way the Wardens were frightened of the dark like little children, afraid to sleep at night lest the demons of the Fade came after them. _The fools don't even realise there are far more dangerous things in the shadows than Darkspawn. This might be fun._

Eventually, the golem stopped, it's task complete, and with uncharacteristic agility, lifted the armour and placed it in the Commander's hands, before returning to its dreamless slumber. Despite the work done to it, the chest plate was cool to the touch, engraved runes glowing softly as the heat was drawn to them.

Unbuckling his own armour, Aedan let the piece drop to the ground, and began to clasp the newly repaired armour around his own body. Sigrun looked at Aedan, disapproval mixed with an understanding of necessity. "A fine piece. I don't think Hirol would complain if I "borrowed" the armour. Besides, I'll be killing Darkspawn in it, I'm sure he won't mind." He called back to the others, ignoring their exhaustion from the pace he had been setting for them. "Take a moment, but take no more, I want you to be ready to march again as soon as I've secured the armour. We've dawdled here long enough."

* * *

"Blood." The long tapering fingers held the delicate vial at arm's length. The black liquid swirled wildly, unseen forces playing with the contents inside the glass. As the Architect studied the vial, he contemplated what he had learned from Savine and Tarven. He had given his word to the Wardens that he would end the Blights, that there would be no need for them or the rest of the world to continue battling the Darkspawn. He had promised to free them from the burden placed upon their shoulders. What he could not understand was their impatience. With the death of Urthemiel, it would take time for him to find another Old God, to try and correct his mistake. Where he had failed with Urthemiel, he would succeed with the next.

"Blood." The Architect rasped, bringing the vial closer to his misshapen eyes, the golden mask he wore discarded, laying on the nearby table. "Strange that something so basic is the key to so much. All living creatures need it to be. The Grey Wardens need ours to battle us, to perform their task. And that I must use it to free my brothers. And yet, it is not so strange. In it is life. Our life."

Feeling a presence behind him, the Architect placed the vial back into it's place on the table and reached for the mask. "Utha, you do not have to wait in the door. Please, come in."

The Dwarf entered the study, standing before the Emissary, her hands and fingers moving in intricate patterns. The Architect remembered when he first met Utha all those years ago, when he had spent several weeks learning the Dwarf's hand language. As part of some Dwarven ritual, Utha had chosen to cut her own tongue from her mouth, a solemn vow that her voice would be in her actions. The news she was delivering now unsettled the Darkspawn. The attack on Kal'Hirol was starting to faltering, the Mother's newest creations driving back the Disciples of the Architect. His War Leader had sent word that though much of the thaig was in their hands, their progress was slowing.

What had been truly unexpected had been the arrival of the Warden Commander and his fellows. The party had cut a swath through both his forces and the Mother's. Although he had only met the Commander briefly, the Architect knew that the Human was unlike any of the others he had dealt with, and with that realisation came a flash of a similar warrior he had encountered decades ago. A king, of this same land, the same refusal to allow the Architect to perform his work, and the same determination to stop.

Utha reached out, taking a hold of the Architect's hand. The Emissary looked down at his companion, and smiled, a hideously misshapen smile. "Perhaps this time your former comrades will be more willing to listen. Come Utha, I must see to creating more Disciples and I have need of your assistance."

* * *

The Wardens could hear the Children screeching before they saw the creatures. The sickening crunch of flesh and bone being devoured alerted Aedan as the party made it's way through the tunnels and corridors of the thaig. A sadistic smile curled his lips underneath the helmet. _So, the bastards haven't learned their lesson then? No matter, it's a lesson I enjoy teaching._

Aedan called Velanna forward, the order unspoken as the Elf whispered an incantation, gently tapping her staff against the stone floor. With each word, Aedan and Sigrun's weapons glowed, at first a soft orange hue, steadily growing whiter and whiter before bursting into flame as Velanna finished casting the spell. Nodding to the others, Aedan moved forward, turning the corner and saw a trio of the creatures feeding on a fallen Hurlock.

The first screeched, it's body contorting in pain before blade-like claws exploded from its body. The second began to twist, it's scream silent as Aedan plunged the flaming sword into its head. The third died from the arrow Nathaniel had loosed from his bow, pinning the Darkspawn to a nearby wall. The first Darkspawn leapt towards the Wardens, and found itself engulfed in flames as Velanna bathed it in a fiery blast.

The battle over before it had begun, Aedan cursed at himself as he twisted the blade free from the twitching body. There was nothing from the Children, no fear, no pain, nothing. There was no satisfaction for him here. "Hmph, let's go. There's plenty of Darkspawn left to fight here."

* * *

The walls of the keep were crumbling, time and the weather having made their mark on the stone. Whoever had once built and stewarded the keep had long since been lost to the past and to erosion. Not that she cared. The keep had served their purpose, allowing Savine and Tarven to marshal their forces. The mage knew she could never trust the Darkspawn, that most likely, when it had what it wanted, the Architect would kill them. Savine knew the game, she had played it for long enough in Orlais. In the end, it was all about politics and seeking to achieve your own ends. It was a game she knew well enough to play.

A hand rested on her shoulder, the signal that Tarven had always used when he wished to speak. Once, the warrior had been articulate, cultured, a man of breeding, as befitting one of the sons of the Duveaux family. His voice had been like honey to the mage, and to much of the female population of Jader. Now, the words spoken were broken and harsh, chewed apart by the warped jaw as the taint slowly destroyed the man. In truth, Tarven should have died two years ago, but Savine had tried everything to slow the corruption, to even reverse it. "Not long now." His heavy set jaw shifted slightly, trying to right itself. "Will end soon."

Savine looked at her lover, stroking the remaining human part of his face. She had never wished to lose him like this, her own selfish desire kept him like this. Once Tarven Duveaux had been an honourable man, always seeking to take the right course. Once, but all that was left was a shell of a man, twisted by a curse and a betrayal that had been forced upon them. "Yes, my love. Your pain will be over soon. And we will be free."

The sound of boots and soldiers standing to attention welcomed the pair as they entered the main hall. Before them stood nearly forty former Grey Wardens, men and women, Elf, Human and Dwarf, all in various stages of the Calling, all halted by Savine's magic. The hatred the Wardens felt was palpable. Each sought the same objective, to be free of the taint. Each had sworn to serve Savine and Tarven, as they had done before.

Inspecting the assembled crowd, Savine nodded. "Soon it will be over."

* * *

Burning iron hands reached for him, Aedan dodging the clumsy blows with ease as he climbed up the Inferno Golem's back. The armour provided amazing resistance from the heat, his own hands cool as he reached the neck of the golem. Below, Sigrun and Nathaniel were battling the Disciple known as the Lost, the Darkspawn backing away from the whirlwind of dagger blows the rogues were landing again and again. Velanna had attempted to stagger the golem using summoned fists, created from the surrounded stone of the chamber. Once, the golem had backed into a pool of water, it's iron leg hissing as the water cooled the red hot leg.

Pulling himself up, Aedan positioned himself just behind the golem's head and tore his swords from their clasps. The Commander slammed the blades into the joint of the head and the neck and pushed, using his legs as leverage as he tried to pry the two pieces apart. He roared as his pushed his entire body weight against the head, the blades glowing in his hands. The sounds of metal straining filling his ears.

Again, the golem's hands tried to grab him, missing again as Aedan lowered his body, trying one last time to break the link. The blades began to bend, small fissures cracking the once smooth metal, until finally snapping, razor sharp shards of metal pattering harmlessly against Aedan's armour , accompanied by the sound of the golem falling to its knee. The metal of the neck began to bubble and blister as the enchantment carved into the golem's hide failed, the molten iron inside the golem slowly started to melt the construct.

Unsure if the armour would be proof against molten metal, Aedan leapt from the golem's neck, rolling as he hit the ground. The golem began to crack, falling apart as the molten iron escaped from the damage Aedan had done. With each passing second, the lines that had marked it's shell faded more and more, until they had become completely darkened. The Inferno golem now remained motionless, immobile and defeated.

Nathaniel and Sigrun had the Lost, squirming in their grasp. The Wardens need answers and he would provide them.

The Disciple hissed as Aedan approached, spitting whatever had passed as a curse amongst the Darkspawn. "You will never defeated the Mother. She will be the end of…." Aedan silenced the Lost as he grasped its throat.

"Take a message to this Mother. I am coming for her and there is nothing she can do to escape. I will make her last moments on this world a living nightmare from which she will beg release." The Commander threw the Darkspawn to the ground, the creature stumbling as it tried to escape.

Sigrun marched in front of Aedan, furious that he was allowing it to get away. "Why? Now the Mother character is going to know we were here!"

His response terrified the Dwarf, as he removed the helmet and Sigrun was greeted by a sadistic grin. Aedan unsheathed his belt dagger and turned it over in his hands. "You know Sigrun, you are completely correct. Whatever was I thinking?" With that, Aedan threw the dagger at the Lost, the blade embedding itself in the Darkspawn's neck. "I mean, she'll get the message soon enough."

Searching the Darkspawn's remains, Aedan found a curved blade, and tested it by slicing through the air. Satisfied, the Warden Commander continued down the tunnel. "Now come, the Broodmothers are nearby. I want to leave this hole before the start of the next Age."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Freedom"

There was still no word from Lady Liza or the others. Indeed, time was growing short as rumours of their conspiracy must have reached the Warden Commander by now. Though she would never dare risk travelling to the old farm during the day, Esmerelle knew she had no choice, she and her fellows would have to act now, or else be executed as traitors, charged with treason against the Crown.

_Bah! The Crown. It has become weak and pathetic. Maric's bastard sits on the throne, placed there by Bryce's youngest. That little brat should have been drowned at birth. _

The doors to her study opened to reveal an armoured figure standing by the fireplace, stoking the embers, his back to the Bann. Without moving, the figure watched the flames dance, the light giving his helmet an unnatural glow. "You seem surprised to see me, Esmerelle. I wonder why that could be."

Esmerelle backed away, realising that the Arl of Amaranthine stood before her. _Does he know? He must, why else would he be here? _"How did you get in here? Guards!"

The figure removed the helmet, revealing long black hair pulled back behind the head, clean and orderly, a contrast to the last time Esmerelle saw Aedan. "Oh, they won't be joining us right now. Or for some time. By the way, you might want to see about hiring some new guards." The Arl began to chuckle slightly, the sound clawing at the back of Esmerelle's mind, sending a shiver up the woman's spine.

_So he has come to accuse me then. There is nothing I can do except hope that someone heard me. _"You killed them?"

The Warden turned to face Esmerelle, his face clean shaven, save for a small circular beard around his mouth. She had never known it to see it when she had sworn fealty to the boy, his face then covered in dirt and a rough growth, but now, against the fire, Esmerelle thought she was looking into the past, as if Bryce Cousland stood before her, alive and well.

Aedan spoke, and something in his voice terrified Esmerelle. A strange quality in the words scratched inside her mind, each word haunted by the whispers of a dozen voices. "No. Wouldn't have been worth the effort. It might have been fun of course, but that's beside the point right now. No, you're guards are fine, they'll be nursing some headaches tomorrow, and I'm somewhat certain some of them will need to change their breeches. But they'll live. Can't really say the same about you though Esmerelle."

It was those last words that truly terrified her. _He knows then, that's why he is here. _"What…what do you mean?"

The Warden walked towards her, each step casual, almost a little jaunt, and yet in Esmerelle's eyes, each motion was unnatural, as if the boy was tied to a puppeteer's string. "I mean, that depending on how our conversation fairs, you might live, you might die, or you might wish you were dead." He paused, motioning to two chairs, separated by a large, heavy desk. "You know, I dislike have a conversation like this, so, let us sit down and be civilised. We are nobility after all."

It was the utter calmness in the Warden that disturbed her most of all. The Bann was sure that Aedan knew everything, and yet for a man whose life was on the line, he was so calm, too calm in fact. "Very well."

"Oh. And Esmerelle. Don't even think about using that dagger hidden under your desk." With a light laugh, Aedan produced a thin stiletto from his belt, toying it in his hands. "You couldn't even if you wanted to."

_He is toying with it, just as he is toying with me. Idiot, does he think this a game? _Her ire was rising, furious that she was being mocked by a boy. "What do you want?"

Never taking his eyes off the blade, Aedan explained himself, the stiletto passing between his fingers, the scraping of metal against metal rang in Esmerelle's ears. "I know about you and your fellows, about the little scheme you tried to hatch against me. I came here to inform you that it won't happen anytime soon."

"Without going into too much detail, but I found your meeting place at Old Stark's Farm. Delightful place by the way. Nice and secluded. I can almost see why it would be a popular place for traitors to rendezvous." Bored with the stiletto, Aedan tossed it in the air twice, before throwing it into the fire, the force splitting one of the burning pieces of firewood.

"I can also appreciate you hiring some Antivan Crows for the task, I mean; they are the greatest assassins in Thedas, famed for never failing in their mission. That said, you should know that they were hired before to kill me, last year in fact. You should also know that they died. Quite horrifically if I can remember correctly. There may have been a couple of decapitations, I definitely remember one of them setting off one of their own bear traps. It was quite funny. It was even funnier to watch him being hit square in the chest with an arrow fired from a friend of mine." He chuckled to himself again, and again a shiver crept up Esmerelle's back. "Forgive me, I tend to get a little bogged down when I reminisce, a small fault of mine. My point is. Antivan Crows, usually an excellent choice for when you want someone dead. Not so much if you send them after a Grey Warden, I truly hope you hadn't sent the fee to their masters yet. That might be somewhat embarrassing."

Her hands turned white as Esmerelle gripped the arms of the chair she sat upon. With each passing second, she feared for the inevitable blade to fall onto her neck. "You killed them?"

"Not all of them. I made sure one of them lived to deliver a message to their masters. Of course not all of him will be going back to Antiva. You want to know what the message is? Because I have the same message for you." He reached for a small pouch tied to his belt, tossing it onto the desk. "Take a look inside."

Pulling at the strings, Esmerelle turned the pouch upside down, and several gold signet rings fell onto the desk. Each ring she recognised, and then the Bann knew her time had come.

The tapping of a gauntleted hand on the table drew her attention as Aedan reached across the table, picking up one of the rings. "Let's see, this one is the Packton family crest, is it not? I was tempted to leave the rings on the fingers, but of course then you would have gotten a small bag of bloody rings and fingers, and we both know how difficult it can be to remove those blood stains from velvet."

Her body began to shake as she watched Aedan pick up the rings, placing them back in the pouch and tying the pouch shut before leaving on the table, patting it as if to make sure it stayed there. "You killed all of them?"

Aedan's eyes beamed with a curious delight as he heard the question. "You seem rather preoccupied with that aren't you, Esmerelle. I suppose if I was in your position, I would most likely worry about that myself. Though, I must say as well, I quite like the look on your face right now, the fear in your eyes, the way the terror has taken a hold of your throat." He smiled to himself as he sniffed the air, his tongue licking his lips. "You can almost smell the sheer horror, and it is a delicious aroma, quite invigorating."

The Warden stopped for a moment, mulling something over in his mind. "Still needs a little kick to it though. Suppose I told you I did it on my own. None of my fellow Grey Wardens, none of the soldiers under my command. Just me." The horrified look in Esmerelle's eyes brought no end of joy to the Warden, his lips parting into an almost demonic smile. "And there it is! Oh yes! We got it!"

"You see, you forgot one thing, Esmerelle. I am a Grey Warden. Hundreds of Darkspawn fell before my blade. I braved the terror of the Deep Roads. I have slain Dragons and battled the true Witch of the Wilds." And for the first time, Aedan's face contorted, spitting to the floor with sickened contempt. "I have destroyed abominations and demons. I slew the Archdemon. And most importantly of all, I hunted down an insignificant worm of a prick named Rendon Howe and killed him. A number of fat and lazy nobles too idiotic to remember that, didn't really even cause me to break a sweat."

Esmerelle pushed herself away from her chair, backing away from the still seated Warden, searching for some way to escape him. "Why are you taunting me, just finish it already!"

There it was again, the damned chuckle. It sounded so inhuman. But then, everything Aedan had said haunted her, tormented Esmerelle. "Why am I taunting you? Why dance under the moonlight? Actually, why dance? Why not sing? Why do anything?" He shot up from the chair, the speed of the movement causing Esmerelle to jump. "Because it's fun, you stupid bitch!"

"You're insane!" In an instant Aedan had crossed the distance between himself and the Bann, and in that instant, his hand grasped her neck and slammed her against the wall.

His tone became serious, his grip tightened, just enough to make sure he wasn't interrupted. "Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I gained an insight to the world and that has granted me a long awaited freedom." Aedan brought himself face to face with Esmerelle, his eyes filled with contempt and hatred. "You still live because of only one reason, Esmerelle. I don't have proof. I don't have absolute proof that you were involved in the conspiracy against me. I don't have absolute proof that you were involved in my family's murder. Rest assured that if I did, you would suffer a fate worse than any twisted nightmare, though, as much as it galls me to say it, thanks to 'Ol Rendon, I do have some pretty twisted nightmares, more so than people might expect." With that, his grip relaxed and Esmerelle slid down against the wall, coughing hard.

"So what do you want from me? Revenge? Do it, let the people what kind of monster rules over them! Rendon was right about the Grey Wardens! You are all pathetic! Just as your father was."

The flash of the sword silenced Esmerelle before she spoke another word, the blade pointed directly at the sagging flesh of her throat.

She was unsure if it was the lack of air from Aedan's grip or her own fear playing tricks on her, but Esmerelle was certain that the Warden's voice had changed, becoming more demonic then human. All she could do now was listen in terrified silence. "I'll tell you who was pathetic. Howe. The man blamed the world for his own failings, and when justice finally came for him, the worm tried squirm his way free. My only regret about killing him was the fact I didn't make the bastard suffer for longer!"

"I came here to deliver a message, and here it is. You are on borrowed time Esmerelle. Your co-conspirators are dead, your assassins are dead. You are on your own. I won't kill you today Esmerelle, I doubt I'd like the taste as that last shred of life left your body. No, you get to live, until I find proof. And when I do, I will come for you." The blade slid back into its sheath, and Aedan turned away from the frightened Bann, walking towards the door. "Think very carefully Esmerelle. Do you want to try something and have me returning, or do you want to take that matter into your own hands?" He paused one last time in the doorway, fixing the helmet back into its place. "Let me put it this way. You don't want to have me returning."

* * *

The Seneschal welcomed Aedan, greeting him with a traditional salute. "Ah Commander, there you are. I trust your business in Amaranthine has been taken care of."

Nodding his thanks with a smile, Aedan strode across the main hall, taking his place on the throne. "Yes, it has Varel, thank you. Have you anything to report?"

Varel nodded, withdrawing a scroll from a satchel, the older man opening it to deliver his daily report. "Yes, Ser. Oghren has returned with the others from investigating the cellars. Apparently they found a passage connecting the cellars to the Deep Roads. Seems to be how the Darkspawn were able to appear as if from nowhere during the attack. They were able to seal the passage by having Voldrik repairing a Dwarven barrier door."

The Warden waved off a servant who had finished pouring a drink. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about. Continue."

"Indeed. Speaking of Voldrik, the Dwarf has reported that repairs to the Keep are well underway. He has though, requested a number of soldiers to guard our miners in the Wending Woods, as the region was well known for its high quality granite. It should make the walls far sturdier, offering more protection."

Draining the goblet, Aedan rolled his hand towards Varel, motioning to move on. "Yes, yes, fine. He can have them. Is there anything else?"

"The only item left is this." Varel beckoned the servant over, the young woman carrying a small package in her hands. "A messenger from Highever arrived last night with this and this." The Seneschal rooted in the satchel before finding the letter. "I believe it is from your brother, Ser."

Aedan took the package and the letter, and started to leave the hall. He looked at the package with a mild curiosity, before speaking as he passed through the doors of the hall. "My thanks Varel. I will go to my chambers now. See to anything that might arise."

"As you command my lord."

* * *

He peeled away the seal, a pair of laurel branches pressed into the wax. Aedan smirked to himself at the sight of his family's seal, not because of the fact that Fergus had bothered to write to him, but because of the satisfaction that those who had attempted to end his line had failed, and for the most part were dead for their troubles.

As he held the letter to the candlelight, Aedan sat down at the desk, and read his brother's letter, the usual chicken scratch that typified Fergus' writing staining the paper. And yet, Aedan could read each word perfectly as his mind deciphered the writing with ease.

_Brother._

_I trust you are well, though that just means I'm still annoyed with you for not letting me know you had taken up your Warden duties again. But knowing you, and from what I have heard from the Dwarf, you are no doubt in your element and doing Mother and Father proud. _

_You know I was never much of one for writing letters little brother, so I will end this before I begin to ramble. Take care of yourself or else you'll find me standing next to you, nagging you._

_Good luck Aedan. You continue to do me proud._

_Fergus._

_P.S. Beast found this in your room, and I thought you might want it. Again, take care._

The package. It was small, no larger than a typical purse of coins. It had been wrapped in the same type of paper as the letter, tied together with a butcher's string. Tearing away the paper, Aedan found a box, and something rattling inside. As he opened the box, Aedan found the source of the rattling, a ring. Made from silver, the banding of the ring was decorated with crossed spears, laying on top of a tear drop, the symbol of Highever. But, it was the centre of the ring that had brought the smile to Aedan's face.

A small piece of blue sapphire had been set into the mount of the ring, the gemstone creating a field for the laurel branches, made from silver, to rest upon. It was Aedan's signet ring, the one presented to him by his parents when he had returned home.

Removing the gauntlet, Aedan touched the ring, the metal cool against his skin. He slid the ring onto his finger, placing it beside the rosewood ring Morrigan had given him all those months ago.

Walking towards the window, Aedan looked out across the keep, and watched the moon slowly rise in the night sky, turning the rings over on his finger. "Oh, I'm better than you might think Fergus. I feel like a new person right now."

Aedan cackled to the sky, revelling in the new freedom he had been granted.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Blood Ties"

**Author's Note: **_My apologies to anyone who speaks German or Italian...(If someone can correct me on the translations, please do so via pm, and not through a review)_

* * *

"So what does a broodmother smell like?" The string dangled in the air as Anders posed the question to Oghren. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot leapt at the string, and missed, falling onto his back and pawing at the air as Anders played with the kitten. They had been back the Vigil for nearly a month, having delivered their report to King Alistair and in that month, the Wardens had only been called upon to clear the cellars of Vigil's Keep of any lingering Darkspawn. As much as the mage hated to admit it, boredom was setting in.

Oghren looked up from his mug, peering at the mage and his kitten, annoyed at having his drink interrupted. "Imagine a chunk of meat that has become rancid and on the verge of becoming putrid. Now imagine that chunk of meat as something about a hundred times larger, with several tentacles, its body glistening with a rank sweat from always giving birth to Darkspawn. Or, even better, imagine some milk that had gone off, left near a fire for several months, then it became a thick sludge, before being dumped in that pit of bodies in the Wending Wood. And then serve it up in the worst boot you can find, it might be like that."

The Dwarf chuckled to himself as Anders turned a little green, and clutched his stomach, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot leaping off his lap. "….I think I'm going to be sick…."

"Hey Elf! Pay up, I told you I could get him to throw up."

Velanna slammed the book shut, spinning away from the window overlooking the nearby forest and glared at him, her eyes as filled with hatred for the Dwarf as they always seemed to be. "Oghren, I did not agree to that ridiculous wager!" Glancing at Anders, Velanna turned back to her studies, muttering under her breath. "And he hasn't thrown up yet."

"Bah, a technicality."

Draining a flask of water, Anders cast a spell, settling his stomach. "….I hate you Oghren, you know that?"

"Nah, everyone loves ol' Oghren." He slid across the bench, and put his arm around the newest Grey Warden. "Ain't that right Sigrun?"

"Urgh." The Legionnaire pushed him away, a look of disgust flashing across her tattooed face. "Go away Oghren before **I** throw up on you."

Ignoring Oghren's latest attempt to flirt with every female in the Keep, Anders lay back on the bench he had claimed, the kitten now back and curled upon his chest. "So, has anyone seen the Commander lately, or has he still holed himself up in the Keep's Library?"

"He is still in there Anders, and he has only come out for food and the occasional rest." Nathaniel entered the kitchen, and moved Anders feet off the bench before taking his place at the table. _Strange that of all the rooms in the Keep, this is the one we all choose to relax in. Still, it was the only room I felt comfortable in when I was growing up, perhaps the others feel it too._

Preparing to argue, Anders sat up, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot in his hands, and decided against it, the mage too bored to actually start the argument. "I don't suppose than that anyone took out _Kendish's Theorem of Primal Magic and Familiar Focularilty _out of the library before the Commander commandeered the room?" The confused faces around the table told Anders that no one understood what he had just asked, the mage shrugging away the unasked question. "I was just wondering, after all if the Commander can have a Mabari that can rip out a demon's throat, then I don't see why Ser-Pounce-A-Lot can't help me focus my abilities."

Sigrun's face lightened at the mention of the hound, as she began to bombard the Wardens with a barrage of questions. "Ohhh! The Commander has a Mabari! Did you see it? Is it cute? Does it have huge teeth? Was it friendly?"

"Yes, we did, and I have to say, I don't care much for them. Great big smelly thing it was. Though that might have been Oghren…."

Oghren interrupted the mage before he could finish the sentence. "Keep it up, ya dress wearing moss licker. And you might find yourself with an axe upside your head." He lowered his head, hovering over the mug as he muttered to himself. "And I'm sure that hound kept stealing my pants last year."

The others ignored him as Sigrun scooted closer to Anders, intent on finding out more about the hound. "Why was it in Denerim, why isn't it here with the Commander?"

"I don't know, though we did get to meet Teyrn Cousland while we were there, he was looking after the hound. I had no idea he or the Commander were brothers, did either of you know?" Nathaniel and Velanna exchanged awkward glances with each other, leaving the mage the one to be confused now. "….Ok….Moving on, well you wouldn't know it if you talked to the Teyrn, he is nothing like the Commander. He's funny, talkative, jokes around. But he wasn't too pleased to hear the Commander conscripted you Nathaniel for some reason."

"Anders, maybe you should shut up now, and quit while you're behind." Oghren snapped, some of the liquid in the mug sloshing over the rim of the mug and spilling onto the Dwarf's hand.

Nathaniel and Oghren stood up and left the room, leaving Anders and Sigrun alone, looking at each other quizzically. "What did I say?" Velanna said nothing as she continued to pore over the book in her hand.

Nathaniel ran up to Oghren, placing his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. "Oghren, I want to ask you something, if you wouldn't mind?"

"No. You can't have any!"

Nathaniel sighed to himself. _Why is it every time I wish to ask him something, Oghren always assumes I want his drink. _"I don't want any of your home brew Oghren, and from what I can understand I wouldn't want it unless I wanted to burn a hole in my throat, or through stone. No, I have a question and I hope you can answer it."

Oghren nodded, and looked at his fellow Warden. "Go on, I ain't going anywhere."

"When you were travelling with Aedan during the Blight, when you fought your enemies, did he ever revel in the killing?"

Oghren looked at Nathaniel like a Nug had suddenly sprouted from his shoulder. "Did he roll around in the killing?"

The man sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, both to remind himself that Oghren preferred to use simpler language and that Nathaniel had forgotten that…again. "No…No, no, no. No…revel…as in; did he ever enjoy the killing?"

The Dwarf thought for a moment, mulling over his memories of the year before, and motioned for Nathaniel to follow him into a deserted armoury, preferring not to speak of his friend in a hallway with passing guards. "Not really, not that I can remember anyway. There were a few times he seemed happy after a battle, but that was probably because it was over and the rest of us were still standing. Even when we were fighting Darkspawn, he never took any pleasure in killing them. He'd throw a couple of one-liners at them, but no, he never enjoyed it. Why do you ask?"

Nathaniel sat down, running his hand through his hair as he tried to think of the best way to tell Oghren about what he, Sigrun and Velanna had seen in Kal'Hirol. "When we were in Kal'Hirol, he almost seemed like he loved killing Darkspawn, as if it was a game for him, and the Darkspawn were his playthings. He mocked them as he killed them, and this wasn't a casual comment or jest, it wasn't a quick sword to the neck. It seemed like he was prolonging their pain and…I don't know… enjoying it? That's the only way I can describe it."

Now Oghren was looking at him like two more Nugs had popped out of Nathaniel's neck. "You're worried because the boss made some Darkspawn suffer a bit more? What the Stone are you drinking? If I was there with him, I'd probably be singing a few shanties as I killed those sodding bastards."

"That's not what I meant Oghren. I mean that he was taking a sadistic pleasure in killing them Oghren. Some he didn't kill, I'm not sure how he did it, he was moving at a frightening speed, we couldn't keep up with him, but as we followed him, we could see his handiwork. The ones he didn't kill out right, he gutted or sliced into their bodies at the choice spots. Do you know what those are?" Oghren nodded, remembering a conversation he had once had with Zevran. Many assassins knew of places on the body known as the choice spots, so called for the way that if you sliced them, you had a choice of either killing an opponent quickly, or to let them suffer a slow and painful death, all by how deep you chose to slice. "And others still looked as though they had mummified or desiccated, which was impossible, the blood around them was still fresh. I don't know how to explain it."

"And your point is?" It was Oghren's turn to pinch his nose, almost sure what Nathaniel was implying. That Aedan had finally gone off the deep end.

Nathaniel leaned in closer, ignoring the stench of stale alcohol soaked into Oghren's clothes, whispering to the Dwarf. "Oghren, Aedan nearly died down in the thaig, then somehow gets up like nothing happened, and proceeds to slaughter his way through the corridors and halls with an ecstasy I've never seen in a person. Especially when it comes to killing. And the blood…I don't know how he did it, but his blood exploded. That is not natural!"

The Dwarf nodded again, and leaned back against the wall, sighing. "I don't know about him getting better like that, but I can explain the blood. You ever hear of Soldier's Peak?"

Howe nodded and shrugged at the question. "Yes, I read about it, it was once the base for the Ferelden Grey Wardens before they were exiled in the Storm Age, what does that have to do with anything?"

Playing with his beard, Oghren began the tale. "Well, the Commander and Alistair heard about this promise their old boss made this trader, about how the Grey Wardens would investigate Soldier's Peak, and try to reclaim it. Course the Blight happened, the Grey Wardens were killed at Ostagar and the two new recruits were the only ones left. Anyway, they heard about the fort and went to claim it. Turns out the fort was haunted by the spirits of those who died there and some weird portal thing that had let some demons in. Only living thing in the fort was a mage from when the Peak was still in Warden hands."

The man cocked an eyebrow, sure that Oghren was exaggerating again. "He would have been over two hundred years old, how is that possible?"

"Blood magic." Anders had entered the room, Oghren agreeing with the answer the mage offered. Sigrun following him, the kitten resting in her hands. Anders continued his explanation to Nathaniel. "Blood magic can theoretically keep someone alive indefinitely, but it would come at a cost."

"What kind of cost?"

Anders sat next to Oghren, his nose wrinkling as he caught the stench and spoke matter of factly. "The kind resulting in a lot of dead people every few years."

Oghren nodded, and continued the tale. "What Sparkles said. Anyway, the mage, I think his name was Avernus, thanked the boss for his aid, and offered to help them close the portal, freeing the Peak from demon control. On one condition. That one of the Wardens drank this concoction Avernus had created, supposed to unlock powers in Grey Wardens beyond the whole sense Darkspawn thing. So the boss volunteered and drank it. I'll tell ya, I've drunk some pretty nasty stuff in my time, but that stuff smelled terrible, course the boss took in his stride like the champion he is." His hands ran over his knees, pressing the cloth smooth, pausing to try and remember how the tale ended. "Course, he didn't notice a change at first, until his arm got slashed open in the Circle Tower, and he found he was hitting the enemy faster than the rest of us, harder too. Course when the fight was over, he fell right onto his ass, exhausted. See, his blood could be spilled, making him faster and stronger, but at the cost that the longer he did it, the weaker he got. Or, if a lot of the dusters crowded him, the boss' blood could harden around him and explode, pushing them back and giving him a little room to breathe, doesn't do too often though, you can kinda guess why. Kinda funny to watch it too. But the rest of what you described, I never seen the boss like that." He tried to smile and joke, and failed miserably. "Maybe he was just pissed off?"

Anders interjected before Nathaniel or Sigrun could ask anything. "Wait…If you and the Commander recovered a Grey Warden keep, why are we here instead of in that keep?"

"It's up a mountain and…."

"Say no more." The mage sat back and rubbed his hands over his face.

"So what do you think he could be doing in the library?" It was Sigrun, passing the kitten back to Anders.

"Why do you ask Sigrun?" Nathaniel made room on the bench for the young woman. He had been surprised that Aedan had offered her a place in the Grey Wardens, and even more surprised the Sigrun accepted. He wasn't sure why, but for a woman who had spent her entire life underground, she was thriving on the surface.

"It's just that, I was looking around the Keep, you know how it is, and I saw the door to the library was open, so I snuck in, and had a look around. On one table he had a map of Amaranthine with a number of pins stuck into it. My guess is, the pins were areas where there had been Darkspawn attacks or sightings."

Anders was curious now, as curious as a man toying with a scabbard could be. "And on the others?"

"On another table he had a few books on scrying, whatever that is, and a larger map of Thedas. But it was the third table that drew my attention. And the books he had on there. I couldn't understand the language on the covers, it made no sense to me." Sigrun pulled out a sheet of paper and a piece of charcoal, spending several moments trying to remember the words printed upon the books. Satisfied, Sigrun handed the sheet to Nathaniel and then started to write the title of a second book.

Nathaniel studied the page, trying to figure out what was written before him. It was only recently the Sigrun had learned how to read and write, and it took Nathaniel some time to decipher the chicken scratch. "_Lento Veleni di Antiva_? I'm sure it's Antivan….I'm not quite sure, I think it might be _Slow Poisons of Antiva_, but as I said, I can't be sure, Antivan isn't my strong language."

Anders took the sheet and looked at it, trying to figure out the title of the book. "And it's the Commander's?"

"It should be, if I remember correctly, Oriana Cousland was from Antiva, she was the Commander's sister through marriage. What were the other books Sigrun?"

Oghren shook his head, mumbling. "Yeah, him and the Elf had a few discussions in that weird tongue when we were travelling, never could understand what they were saying."

Sigrun had finished writing and handed the sheet to Nathaniel again. "This was the only other one I can remember. I heard someone coming and got out of there."

"_Tragen Fallen und andere Anwendungen?_ It sounds Nevarran or from the Anderfels, I'm sorry, but I never learned anything beyond hello and goodbye, maybe something about bears and traps. I don't know, I'll have to look it up. Anders, can you make anything out of it?" Howe handed the sheet to Anders, the mage shaking his head apologetically.

"No, sorry, Tevinter is the only other language I have any familiarity with and even then it's for spells. I wonder why he could be reading up on these?"

Heavy footfalls in the outside hall alerted the Wardens, Anders stuffing the sheets into his robes as Nathaniel spoke. "I don't know Anders, but I think we might find out soon enough."

Aedan burst into the armoury, wearing the polished Armour of Hirol, pointing towards the Wardens in turn. "Nathaniel, Oghren, Anders, get your gear! You three are with me!"

Oghren stood up and looked at the Commander. "What is it?"

"We just received word that some Darkspawn were spotted near the Blackmarsh, and that Kristoff was investigating the area." Aedan stared at the others, still sitting down, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot hissing at the Commander as their eyes locked. "Now. MOVE IT!"

With that Aedan had left the others behind. Anders had lifted himself from the bench and made his way to his chambers. "I liked it better when he didn't talk."

Oghren patted Anders on the back. "For once, I agree with you, Sparkles."

Anders shoulders slumped as Sigrun giggled. Even Nathaniel smirked slightly as the mage walked away. "Oghren…I hate you…Have I ever told you that?"


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"Into Dreams"

"Hmph, figures the Darkspawn would have to pick somewhere wet and muddy." The Dwarf mumbled aloud, both to himself and to the others as they made their way through the thick mud of the marsh. "I better not lose a boot."

"Well it's not like your feet are going to get any dirtier, Oghren, I mean, the slightest bit of liquid touching those horrors would be a vast improvement over how they are now." Anders was following his fellow Wardens, leaning on his staff for balance, smirking to himself as he watched the Dwarf struggle.

Oghren stopped, and turned slowly towards the mage, nearly falling into the marsh water as he did. "Keep talking Sparkles, and I'll make sure you end up missing your own feet."

"Promises, promises Oghren." Anders countered, and caught sight of the Commander's eyes, glaring at him and Oghren through the slits of his helmet.

"Are you two hens finished clucking or should I leave you alone for a while? No? Well then, keep moving; we're almost near the village." Aedan snapped back, ploughing through the mud with remarkable ease. Ahead, Nathaniel had scouted the land before them, searching for some clue as the Commander approached. "What do you know about the Blackmarsh?"

"Not much Commander. Only that during the war, the village was thriving, the next day the inhabitants simply disappeared. When the monsters came no one really tried to investigate what happened, and the marsh developed a reputation, where people entered, and never left."

By now Oghren and Anders had caught up with the two men, the Dwarf seemingly pleased at the prospect of a fight, the heavy axe hefted by eager hands. "Heh, if that's the case, it'll mean we'll get to kill something, this is turning out to be a good day aftera….Argh!" A pause. "I thought I saw a….err….never mind."

Anders was cackling, helping the Dwarf to his feet. "Awww, did poor widdle Oghren get scared by the shadows." A howl quickly silenced him. "…I'm scared...Hold me?"

Aedan was before them in a shot, pulling Oghren to his feet with one hand, pushing Anders away with the other. "Will you two shut up! It's bad enough I have to listen to your incessant moaning and whinging on the road here, I do not want to hear you acting like scared children." _Though, the terror they're both feeling is a nice appetiser. _"You're both Grey Wardens, act like it." The Commander could sense the third Warden trying to gain his attention. Releasing the pair, Aedan turned and saw Nathaniel nocking an arrow onto his bow. "What is it Nathaniel?"

The archer pointed to fast moving shapes approaching them. "We have company, wolves."

"Hey boss, what's the order?" Oghren stood by Aedan's side, preparing to counter charge the wolves.

"What do I care? They're only wolves. Just finish them quickly so we can move on." He stopped, and motioned the mage beside him. "Actually, Anders, freeze them, Oghren, smash a path through them."

Anders looked bemused the order, and though tempted to ask, realised that Aedan was probably not in the mood to repeat orders. "Errr, alright Commander."

The temperature in the air dropped, the heat disappearing as Anders prepared the spell, remembering the lessons and methods he had learned in the Circle of Magi and on his own travels. His hands grew frosty as ice formed around his fingers, before the mage unleashed a storm of ice and a chill wind. Almost instantly the wolves were frozen, those who escaped the icy blast were sniped by Nathaniel and his bow, picking out the beasts with an eye trained by dozens of battles.

The rest were slaughtered by Aedan and Oghren.

Leaving the wolves behind, the Wardens made their way along the marsh path, each step finding firmer ground as the trail eventually gave way to a brick road. They had reached the Blackmarsh village. The villagers' homes were either ruined or had been burned down by some long forgotten blaze, only the mansion in the centre of the village was untouched. Death, decay and fear hung in the air, another marker to the fate of the village.

"Either everyone in this village is dead, or they really let this town go to pot." Oghren walked slowly through the gates, the scene before him unsettling the seasoned warrior.

"Just keep moving, Oghren." Aedan pushed past the Dwarf, unsheathing the dual blades, and taking a relaxed stance in the village centre.

"You feel that Commander, like we are being watched?" It was Nathaniel, as much perturbed by the ruined village as Anders and Oghren, scanning the charred buildings for movement.

"Yes, I noticed. And before you ask, it's not Darkspawn; it feels more….bestial, an animal cunning perhaps."

"How can you be so sure?" The archer drew an arrow from the quiver, pulling the bowstring taut as he picked his target, a shadow hiding in the corner of a crumbling hovel. Before he could even release the arrow the shadow had disappeared.

"I asked." The sarcasm bit deeply, leaving Nathaniel with a bitter taste in his mouth. "How do you think? There is an intelligence here, but it's slaved to the Taint. Prepare yourselves."

Oghren patted the archer on the shoulder, the three Wardens following the Commander out of the village and deeper into the marsh.

As they passed a small pond, a flash in the water caught Aedan's eye. A bottle was submerged in the water, tangled in roots and weeds. Despite himself, Aedan reached into the water and removed the bottle from its prison. Uncorking the bottle, a note, rolled and secured by a simple, unadorned silver ring, fell on his hand. Unrolling the note, the Warden almost laughed as he read the proposal a young man had left his love, the ring his offering. _The idiot thought he was in love and proposed? Or at least tried. I wonder what happened? Heh, maybe she left him. Moron._

Just as he was about to destroy the letter, he paused, as something clawed its way to the surface of his mind. Despite his best efforts to suppress them, memories burst through, filling his mind of another time.

* * *

Denerim… First city of Ferelden and home to the Royal Palace. It was also the birthplace of Andrastre, Bride of the Maker, and as such, it was considered one of the holiest places in Thedas. It was strange to think that Denerim was, at one time, a teyrnir. Of course though, the Teyrn of Denerim was also the King of Ferelden, whose duty was to protect all of Ferelden, not just one city. In time, the actual power of the city reduced, until it became an Arling, given over to the Kendells family, as the Theirin family ruled Denerim. And it was Denerim Aedan now found himself, walking the streets with Morrigan as they and the others searched for Brother Genitivi's home.

They had divided into smaller groups, to be less conspicuous amongst the city's inhabitants and to better their chances of finding the Brother's home. Alistair and Zevran had agreed to check the backstreets, as Wynne, Leliana and Oghren searched near the Chantry. Sten and Shale remained at camp, as Aedan, Morrigan and Beast wandered the Market District.

As they walked, Aedan couldn't help but notice that things between himself and Morrigan had changed since her discovery about who he was. Whenever he had tried to raise a conversation with her at camp, the Witch would mutter some excuse or feign nausea, leaving Aedan to stare at the space where she had been. _It's your own fault Aedy, you didn't lie to her, but you weren't exactly honest with her. Maybe she doesn't trust you now, why should she? In her mind anything you built together was based on half-truths, and you aren't the man she has gotten to know over the past few months. So…what are you going to do? Let her go? Or accept that you are an idiot who screwed up big time and try again…And accept the possibility of an icicle to the face?_

Watching her examine a necklace from a vendor's stall, Aedan made his decision, and leaned in. "A silver for them."

Morrigan dropped the necklace in surprise, drawing a disapproving glance from the vendor, as the Witch turned to the Warden. "What?"

"Your thoughts, you've been quiet since we broke camp this morning."

She looked around, her hands gripping her arms as the young woman sought privacy from the multitude of prying eyes. "I have been thinking, and I wish to ask you a question."

_She's uncomfortable, of course she would be, this is probably the busiest place she's ever been to. In fact, so am I, I hate large crowds. _"Of course, go ahead." He motioned to a nearby alley, leading to a dead end, it wasn't perfect, but it was secluded enough so that they may speak in private.

Satisfied they were alone, Beast playing with some local children, Morrigan relaxed a little, concern in her eyes as she tried to speak, searching for the right words. "'Tis something that has been troubling me for some time and I wish to know your opinion on the subject."

He was worried now, a thousand thoughts running through his mind, a barrage of questions. _Does she wish to leave? Does she wish to end it? Should I leave? Wait….why is she looking at me like that…Crap!...I haven't said anything for a while. Talk you idiot, say something! _"Well, you know you can ask me anything Morrigan. Please, what is it?"

She looked at him, her golden eyes drawing the Warden closer to her, uttering one word. "Love."

That one word, those four little letters, struck him harder than any spell or blow from a weapon could. Unsure of what had just been asked of him, Aedan stammered, barely able to reply. "Err…err...err… My…opinion?"

Her stance changed, more serious, determined, her face hardened slightly, as Morrigan prepared to chastise Aedan. "In case you did not notice, you and I have been intimate, for one." And suddenly her face softened. "We have been…close for some time now. You are impressive, in many ways, and you even protected me from Flemeth without thought of reward or your own safety." The Witch wrung her hands together, trying to calm herself. "I feel anxious when I look upon you, I was…worried when you were in the Wilds, not for whether you would succeed against Flemeth, but for you." Aedan reached out towards Morrigan, only for the Witch to pull herself just out of his grasp. "I…dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is "love", I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."

Aedan backed away, clearing a path if Morrigan chose to walk… or run away. "And if I do, Morrigan?"

"Then we are both fools!" She snapped. "I have allowed myself to become…too close." Her arms wrapped around her body, shielding herself from the Warden. "This is a weakness."

The Warden said nothing for a moment, taking the time to let her confession sink in, taking the time to try and think of a response. All he could offer was a simple "Love isn't a weakness."

Morrigan threw her arms away from her body, her voice growing louder, while still trying to avoiding any unwanted notice. "Are you not listening to me? Do not be such a fool!" She paced in a small circle, her eyes shut as she tried to dissuade Aedan. The Warden moved closer, wanting to hold her. "This is for your own good. I…I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you…are not worth mine."

He shut his eyes, and grabbed Morrigan by the shoulders, drawing her to his body. "Morrigan. Calm down, and listen to me, please." Aedan opened his eyes and was greeted by her eyes, pleading with him. He knew why she was trying to force him away, a childhood and a life with an abomination for a mother had never allowed Morrigan to know affection, and here, now, because of him, she was being overwhelmed by a world she had never known. _She's in pain, and it's my fault. _"Do you know why I set out to Flemeth's hut as soon as you asked me?" His voice was a whisper in the young woman's ear, what he had to say to Morrigan was for her alone. "I didn't do it so that I could say I fought **the** legendary Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds. I didn't do it because I needed a mage. I didn't do it for glory, reward or fame." He paused, resting his head against hers, the scent of her hair now filling their private world. "I did it, Morrigan, because I saw you were in danger and I didn't you to be hurt…or worse. I did it because I love you and I would give up my life to protect yours."

The Witch tried to interrupt, to push away from his embrace, a weak refusal on her lips. The Warden continued, throwing his gauntlet from his hand, revealing a solitary ring on his finger, the shapes in the rosewood shifting, animals transforming to human and back. "This ring you gave me. I haven't taken it off since the day you gave it to. There are probably a dozen other rings in my backpack that might be more beneficial to me, but this is the only ring I'll ever wear, because you gave it to me Morrigan. Each morning that I woke up next to you, when I saw your face, your eyes still moving in a dream, I knew… I know that I'm the luckiest man in Thedas." As Morrigan turned her head down, trying to avoid Aedan's gaze, the Warden tilted her chin upwards, leaning in, his lips hovering just above hers. "If being in love with you makes me a fool, than I am the biggest fool in the world. Because I do, I love you Morrigan, and I'm sorry, for a lot of things. For not telling you who I was, for you being pained by this, for every stupid thing I've ever said or done. I love you, and that will never change."

Aedan could see her delicate jaw try to harden as Morrigan gritted her teeth, her resolve breaking down as she looked into his eyes. "I…you are impossible!"

A brief and weary smile crossed the Warden's lips at her stutter, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "So you've said on several occasions."

As she placed her hand on his armour, he could feel her head rest beside it, her skin warm against his bare hand. "Have it your way Aedan, but I will tell you this, truly; you will regret this in the end."

Aedan kissed the crown of her head, savouring the solitude with Morrigan, as he embraced her. "I can't regret anything with you Morrigan."

* * *

"Commander." The memory of Denerim, the feel of her skin against his, that embrace, all dissolved in Aedan's hands, falling away like sand as Nathaniel spoke. He was more insistent now, nudging Aedan's shoulder. "Commander!"

He snapped, anger echoing in his helm. "What?" Nathaniel pointed ahead, and Aedan could hear them before he saw them. The Children. "Never mind! Move out!"

In a clearing lay clutches of eggs, Childer grubs erupting from the leathery sacs and launched themselves at a pack of werewolf like creatures. Even as they ran into battle, Aedan knew the werewolves were the ones they had sensed moments before in the village. Even from this distance, the Warden could smell the taint on the creatures, Blighted and cursed to insanity. It seemed as though the Blighted werewolves had planned an ambushed for the Wardens, only to be caught in one now by the Children.

None survived.

The first Childer, Aedan crushed beneath his steel shod boot, swinging his swords down upon a second and third, ecstatic as the Darkspawn mewled in pain as he ended their lives. "Oh, what a lovely surprise, these little bastards again." He pinned one to the ground as he cut another in half as it leapt at him. "I'd make introductions, but I'm too busy killing you!"

"Maker! These things are ugly! Are these the Children?" Anders froze a grub, just as it finished devouring a werewolf, before it could metamorphose.

Oghren swung his axe in an arc, slaying several of the creatures as they skittered towards him, calling out to the mage. "Nah, Sparkles, these are the Nieces and Nephews. Come 'ere to 'Ol Uncle Oghren and Auntie Axe!"

Nathaniel spotted on crawling away, and shouted to Aedan. "Commander! One of the Children is trying to escape!"

"What are you waiting for?" Aedan caught one of the grubs in mid-air, slamming it to the ground as he brought his knee down on its neck. "An invitation? Kill it!"

Nathaniel and Anders gave chase to the grub, the small Darkspawn surprising the pair with the speed it moved with. It didn't matter though as Nathaniel prepared an arrow and killed the creature before it could reach an old burrow.

Satisfied, Anders rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath as Nathaniel crept forward, a prone figure in the clearing ahead drawing his attention. The nobleman paused, and hissed back to Anders. "You better get Oghren and the Commander, Anders… I think we found Kristoff."

"Dead… At least for a week…I can't see any wounds or marks. He might have been poisoned, or something used magic. I can't tell." Anders held his hand over his face, vainly trying to block the decaying stench rising from the fallen Warden from entering his mouth.

"Don't bother."

The mage stood up, making the sign of the Maker over Kristoff's body. "Commander, I know he is dead, but we can at least…"

"I already know what killed him."

"What?" It was then he noticed, the Grey Wardens were not alone as Hurlocks and Genlocks emerged from their hiding places, their crudes bows nocked and aimed at the Wardens.

Beneath his helmet, Aedan sneered at the Darkspawn, and spat his reply to Anders. "Them."

A large Darkspawn walked towards the Wardens, a heavy blade strapped to its back. Already Aedan could see this one was different from the others. There was a malevolent intelligence behind its sunken eyes, something the other Darkspawn lacked. It was yet another Disciple.

The Disciple stopped before the Commander, giving itself a swift pound to the chest as it announced itself to Aedan, speaking with a deep rasping lisp. "I am being the First. I am serving the Mother. I bring a message from her. None can stop the Mother! Not even the Father."

As he listened, Aedan's hands clenched tight, waiting for a chance to strike. He responded in kind to the First with a growl, angry and filled with hatred. "You know that killing a Grey Warden means that I will rip your throat out."

The First tried to smile, instead revealing rows of peg like teeth, many broken and jagged. The Darkspawn nodded at Aedan's threat. "Yes. The Mother knows many things; she knew that killing the human would bring you here. She knows not if you help the Father, but you covered in his stench. She cannot let you be interfering in her plans. She will…."

Aedan interrupted the First, feigning a stifled yawn. "Right…You're boring me now, so unless your plan is to continue assaulting my ears with an atrocious use of the Common Tongue, draw your sword and attack. Otherwise, stay right there and I'll gut you."

The First hopped back, and withdrew something from its pouch, a small black orb, and held it towards Aedan, a sound almost like chuckling emanating from its throat. "The Mother, she gave me a gift for you." The orb began to glow, at first a deep green, slowly getting brighter until it blinded Aedan and the others. "She does not want you to help the Father."

The world began to shift as Aedan was hurled back and unconsciousness overtook him.

He didn't know how long he was unconscious, only that his head hurt and that it felt like he had been drinking with Oghren again. "Where is he? I'll make that bastard suffer!"

As he opened his eyes, Aedan almost smiled as he saw the First rising to its feet, and the almost look of horror etched upon its face. "What is this? I am being trapped in the Fade! The Mother knew this?"

The Commander chuckled at the irony of the situation as Anders and the others stirred. "Heh, I'm guessing you weren't the first in your class. Too bad, because you're about to get a lesson in why you should **not mess with me!**"

The First hissed at Aedan, calling it's brothers to battle. "No! The Mother will pay for treachery against the First!" Several Hurlocks rose and formed a circle around the Grey Wardens as Childer grubs rose from their burrows. "You will remain here and die, Wardens."

Oghren sighed as he took in what the First had said. "So Boss, we're in the Fade again. Well isn't that just **great!**"

His swords were drawn, his anger rising, at the First and at the annoying Dwarf at his side. "Oghren, if you're going to complain." The sword pointed at the Darkspawn blocking their path. "Do me a favour and kill them instead!"


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"Reflections"

The blade sunk deeply into the Hurlock's stomach, before it was twisted free with a deft flick of Aedan's wrist, black blood staining the Warden's armour and as it died, so too did the immediate threat posed by the Darkspawn.

Oghren tore his axe from the ruined form of a Hurlock, the Dwarf panting as he took in the events of the previous moments. The haft of the axe cracked as his grip tightened, the Dwarf's anger seething beneath the surface as he stepped in front of the Commander. "Oh this is just great Boss, well done. I'm trapped in the Fade…Again. This isn't right, you know. Dwarves aren't supposed to be in the Fade, it's unnatural."

"You're saying that like it's my fault Oghren." He wiped the blood from the sword, pausing to wonder what was the point. They were in the Fade; the blood here was not real, so why wipe it away?

"Considering this is the second time I've been trapped in the Fade, and you're the only other one from the Circle tower that time that's stuck here, I gotta ask, why is it these things always happen to you?"

As the sword slid back into the sheath on his back, Aedan looked at the Dwarf, shrugging as the flame headed warrior paced around, muttering to himself. "Oghren, this isn't exactly my perfect day either, so be quiet and we'll find something for you to kill."

"And that's another thing, isn't it. Why is it everywhere you go, you always manage to find the one person or creature that wants you dead? I like a good fight, but travelling with you…Commander, it's starting to get old real quickly." Oghren threw his hands out towards Anders and Nathaniel, his attention now focusing on the pair. "Watch now, this is your dream realm right? So naturally we'll get attacked by angry demons that want to kill us, hungry demons that want to kill us and then eat us and half naked demons that look like oiled up wenches who'll offer us hot oil massages… right before they try to kill us!"

The pair looked on bemused as the Dwarf ranted under his breath as Aedan walked away from the scene. Whatever the Commander may have been feeling, was hidden beneath the dirt streaked helm. "Oghren, if you're ready to give your ass a break, let's move on." Motioning for the others to hold, Aedan scrambled across a ledge, seeking a vantage point. "Our answers might be in the village. Stay there while I search for a path."

"Yeah, take your time." Oghren was mumbling into his own helmet as Aedan disappeared around a corner, muttering under his breath. "Ya nug's ass."

Nathaniel walked up to the Dwarf, resting against his longbow. "I take it, Oghren, that you've been in the Fade before."

The Dwarf's body language told Nathaniel that Oghren was uncomfortable about having to remember his past, more so then being trapped in the Fade it would seem. Eventually, Oghren settled and explained what had happened. "Yeah, and I hated it then too. Me, the boss, and the Bard went to the Circle Tower, 'cause the Grey Wardens have a treaty with the Mages for help in a Blight. And naturally, we get there and the Tower is overrun with demons and pretty much most of the Templars are dead. We met up with this mage named Wynne; she helped us through the tower, killing abominations, undead and the odd possessed Templar. And we were doing good, right up until we met this sloth demon. Anyway, long story short, I hate the sodding Fade!"

"...Alright…" Nathaniel stammered, more confused now by Oghren's explanation than before.

"Hey, Oghren, you want to hear something really freaky? We might be able to walk around here in the Fade, but our bodies are right where we left them in the mortal realm. That's kind of amazing isn't it?" Anders had caught up with the two, brushing away the dirt from his robes, a beaming smile crossing his mouth.

Nathaniel eyed the mage, surprised that Anders almost seemed happy to be stuck in the Fade. "You seem remarkably calm Anders, considering what's just happened to us."

"What? Oh yes, I suppose so. But then again I'm a mage; it's all kind of second nature to me. I mean you ever hear of the Harrowing? It's the right of passage a mage must do in order to become a fully-fledged mage. They send an apprentice mage into the Fade, where they must confront a demon." The mage shifted his weight as he propped himself against his staff, trying to get comfortable as he divulged a carefully kept secret of the Chantry and the Circle of Magi. "If they fail to defeat the demon, or some say, spend too long there, a Templar will execute the apprentice's mortal body. Supposedly it's to make sure a mage can withstand the temptation of a demon, but if you ask me, it's because the Templars and the Chantry are full of sadistic people who really need something sharp, pointy and painful shoved into a place where the Maker forgot to put some sunshine." Anders spat at the ground, silently cursing the Chantry for branding him a menace simply because of an accident of birth. "Then again, they might like that."

The sight and sound of Aedan crashing amongst them startled the three, Anders shrieking loudly with surprise. "Andrastre's charred knickers!"

Wisps of magic lingered around the Commander's armour as Nathaniel helped him to his feet, the rogue searching for what had thrown Aedan like a rag doll. And then he saw them, three demons, hideous, and yet strangely entrancing, possessing a strange beauty, even as their hands crackled with mystical energy, ready to kill the invaders of their realm.

Oghren grabbed Aedan, hauling the Warden upright and knocking his helm with a tap of the axe, trying to knock some sense into the man. "See? What did I tell you? Everywhere the Boss goes, he finds something that wants him dead. And oh look, sodding oiled demon wenches…. That want to kill us. Surprise, surprise." He sneered as he looked at the Desire Demons as they started chanting in unison, preparing to unleash a spell upon the Grey Wardens. "Still prettier than Branka though."

"If you're done leering Oghren, help me kill them so we can get a move on." Aedan was shaking his head clear as he started up the ledge, his blades drawn as he prepared to charge.

* * *

"How long until our forces are ready to move?" The silken glove slid over the deformed hand, shielding her shame from the world. Even in the darkness of the keep, Savine could see the dark blue silk as clearly, as though lit by a dozen torches hanging overhead. Her night vision improved with each passing day, another sign that the Calling was advancing faster than she had expected. Another sign that her time was running out.

As always, Tarven stood nearby, the warrior's face now hidden beneath his head, the tainted blood in his veins corrupting him more and more, the last vestiges of his humanity crumbling away, replaced by the cold hatred of the Darkspawn.

"By day's end, but it will take us a month to reach Amaranthine through the Deep Roads." The words were monosyllabic, all emotion in the former Warden's voice, each word hissed, as if a serpent spoke, and not a man. "The Fereldens will most likely be wary of large groups moving through the land not wearing a local lord's colours."

"Ignorant savages. Three years ago they would not have known a Darkspawn if one leapt from the ground in front of them. Now they consider themselves experts?" Her brow furrowed with seething anger, furious of the idea of having to hide from the Fereldens and with the idea that a backwater nation thought themselves better than her, better than Orlais.

"Three years ago no one would have thought a Blight would have occurred. Remember, Savine, those "savages" defeated a Blight in less than a year. " Where once Savine found comfort in Tarven's soothing words, now an unearthly chill ran up her spine as the grating hiss that was now his voice worked its way into her mind. "No other nation has accomplished the same. Toth and the Third Blight raged for fifteen years, while Andoral did so for twelve. Even with three Wardens, those "savages" defeated Urthemiel a year after it awoke. Orlais, the Anderfels, the Tevinters and the entire Order spent decades trying to end the Blights when they occur. The Fifth Blight caught them unawares and they still did the impossible."

"What is your point Tarven? That they are better than us? They are little more than fur clad barbarians!" His logic was sound, but the concept of a nation that thirty years ago paid tribute to Orlais, that was rightfully ruled by a just Emperor, that had thrown away oaths of fealty and fought their masters, could defeat an Archdemon and a Blight, left Savine with gnawing anger deep in her stomach.

Metal scraped against stone as Tarven produced a whetstone from his belt and sharpened the serrated blade he always carried. A habit from a time now lost to their curse, Tarven would always focus on his blade, thinking of the best way to explain his point. Even now as the taint of the Darkspawn coursed through his body, Tarven's mind was still as sharp as the blade, and as human as ever, making the warrior a dangerous enemy. "My point is that those fur clad barbarians brought the Tevinter Imperium to its knees. Fur clad barbarians that drove Orlais from their land thirty years ago. My point, Savine, is that you best respect them, or we will suffer the price for arrogance."

"It is a price we have already paid, that we still pay!" She could see his head shifting away under the hood. They had both join the Grey Wardens at the same time, fought the same battles and yet somehow, the progression of the taint in her was slower, perhaps because of her magic, but Savine knew Tarven hated this…curse. She reached for his face with her ungloved hand, her skin feeling the coarse, scaly touch of his skin. She spoke, her words soft as she attempted to soothe him. "We will see this done, my beloved. We will be free of this." A gauntleted hand gripped her wrist, throwing the Elven hand away as Tarven stood up, walking away from the mage. Savine grabbed her staff, chasing after the warrior. "Where are you going?"

"To prepare for the end." The words were lost in the shadows of the ancient keep. The last words Savine would hear from her lover.

* * *

The door of the crypt exploded as the Wardens made their way into the village's Garden of Remembrance, the last of the skeletons inhabiting the crypt crumbling to dust as Aedan and Oghren fought them back, Nathaniel and Anders running through the smouldering doorway to the outside world.

The newer Grey Wardens panted as Oghren and Aedan stacked cast away headstones against the door, barring any of the undead from following them. Though they were certain the Hunger demon that had made the crypt its home was dead, no one was taking any chances of it coming after them.

"Wow, funny how even in the Fade we can find the undead." Anders was resting against a statue of Andrastre, his head between his knees as he tried to stifle the laughter.

Nathaniel stood beside him, scanning for danger, not amused by the situation, or by Anders' attempt at humour. "Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Anders. Now I don't suppose you know a way to get us out of here?"

The mage straightened himself, his hand running through his hair as he prepared to retie mess together again. "The only way I know of to get us out of the Fade would be to find what got us here in the first place. We need to find the First."

"That…makes sense… Ironic considering we're in a place which makes no sense whatsoever." Nathaniel still felt uneasy. Yes, he had faced a demon before, once in that village near Kirkwall, but that was a possessed mage. One Rage demon, the lowest in the hierarchy, that had tried to experience the mortal realm, but this, was different. This was the Fade, where spirits and demons dwelt. People could only visit this realm in their dreams and have no memory of being here when they awoke.

This wasn't natural though. He knew full well where he was, what had happened and was they had gone through. After defeating the coven of Desire demons, they had found two more sites where the demons were performing some sort of ritual. Again, they defeated them, the air shifting strangely as they passed, as if something had happened in the mortal realm.

And then there was the crypt they had just escaped from, and the girl who turned out to be a Hunger demon who tried to devour them. More and more, Nathaniel could understand why Oghren hated the Fade.

"Oh it does make sense Nathaniel; you just need to recognise the signs. The Fade is shaped by the minds of Men and Elves; everything created here represents a facet of a slumbering mind." The explanation sounded like one presented from a teacher to student, simple and unlikely to overwhelm the student's mind. It sounded a little condescending.

"So what does that represent?" The rogue pointed towards a statue in the distance, twisted and contorted into shapes that no real material had any right being.

Anders peered at the statue, mulling what he could see over in his mind, before shrugging and picking up his staff as Aedan walked by. "….How should I know? That person was probably crazy."

"Why am I not surprised."

"I'm sorry Nathaniel, but this is as much a new experience for me as it is for you. My mind has travelled to the Fade, but it was always able to find its way back to my body, but I have never, and I mean never, had my mind trapped here by a demented, talking Darkspawn."

"Point taken." Nathaniel mumbled to himself and followed the Wardens, surprised to hear a new sound around the corner of the Garden.

It was the sound of people, talking.

* * *

"What are you doing here Warden?" Morrigan looked up from her mother's grimoire, annoyed by the interruption of her studies. They had set up camp in an old farmstead near the Brecilian Forest, their task in Denerim over and now they had the knowledge the Wardens needed to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes and to cure Arl Eamon of his illness.

It had been a week since her discussion with Aedan about how she felt… that she had fallen in love with him, and rather than obeying her wishes of leaving her, to free her of that weakness, Aedan had confessed the same to her.

Morrigan couldn't…she couldn't let what she felt for the Warden cloud the simple fact that she accompanied the Wardens for a reason, and because of that, she had kept away from Aedan, fearful of the warmth he had shown her.

Aedan stood in the doorway, more than a little sheepish for disturbing Morrigan, his feet shuffling awkwardly as he tried to keep his hands behind his back. "I…uh…I thought you looked a little lonely up here. I was just wondering if you wished to talk."

"There is nothing I wish to talk about right now. Is that all you wish to know or is there something else." The manner was brusque and immediately Morrigan regretted how it sounded.

The Warden took a step back, almost fading into the shadows of the corridor. "Um, do you know what today is?" The question was nervous, as if he was afraid of making himself heard.

"Warden! I have no time for any foolish games so leave me…." The Witch finally noticed that wrapped package Aedan was failing to hide behind his back. More than once he almost dropped it, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. "What is this?"

"Today is Satinalia, a day for…"

She snapped, angered that the Warden for being a fool and trying to hide something from her. She had enough of the lies and hidden truths about his past. And now he was trying to explain a foolish tradition to her. "I know what Satinalia is, what I wish to know is what that is behind your back?"

With a gentleness he reserved for when they would lay together, Aedan brought the package before him, holding it out to Morrigan. "Oh, uh, it's you gift."

"My gift?"

Morrigan stood from the bed, and took the package in amazement, slowly unwrapping it to reveal her reflection. It was a mirror; a scene of a deer at play with swallows was inlaid in the gold, a piece of finely polished glass set into the frame, completing the mirror.

"It's a tradition to give someone you care for a gift on this day." Aedan pointed to the mirror as Morrigan turned it over in her hands, unsure if it was truly real. "I saw that mirror when we were in Orzammar, and I remembered the tale you told me, about that mirror you found as a girl, and how Flemeth smashed it to the ground." The Warden ran his hand through his hair, nervous and realising he was still talking. "I don't know if that is like that one… I…I thought you might like it."

"It is beautiful…" Her fingers traced the outline of the animals in the glass, a smile reflected in the glass. "I am amazing you found one so like it." She placed the mirror on the bed, turning towards Aedan, uncertain why he would give her gift such as that. She feared he wanted something, to trap her more in this web of weakness they were both weaving. "I do not know what to say…Surely you must wish something in return, certainly."

He smiled, that simple, lopsided smile that always put her at ease. "It is simply a gift, Morrigan." He paused, his eyes catching the candlelight, granting the green an eerie glow. "For a beautiful woman."

"I have never received a gift, not one that did not come with a price. Thank you."

"I told you before; you never have to thank me, Morrigan." Aedan stepped back, his hand on the door. "I'll leave you be, tomorrow will be a long day. Good night." The door was almost closed before it opened again, Aedan's head popping around and whispered to her. "And errr, happy Satinalia, Morrigan."

She still had the mirror, even after the battle of Denerim, even after her travels through the Frostback Mountains and the skirmishes she had fought. The mirror was her prized possession, more so than her mother's grimoire. As she brushed her hair for the eve, Morrigan held the mirror before her, remembering that night when Aedan gave it to her. Time and again, the Warden would surprise her with some deed, or what he said. Every time the Witch thought she knew Aedan, he would do something to throw her off. As infuriating as that may have been, Morrigan realised she relished the excitement and the unexpected when she was with Aedan, amazed how he would secure victory in the face of defeat and somehow carry the day.

Yet as she placed the mirror back into the chest near her bed, Morrigan feared that Aedan was gone, replaced by a shadow. She feared that the Aedan in the farmhouse, that she knew, was dead, and something sinister walked in his stead.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"Justice"

A crowd had gathered at the gates of the manor, an assortment of weapons, ranging from swords to farming implements, clattered against the wrought black iron. So intent and focused on their anger the villagers failed to notice the party walking towards them. As they approached, Aedan kept an eye for any sudden movement. It was clear to the Wardens that the villagers were baying for blood and would not take kindly to heavily armed strangers in their midst. Something was stirring these villagers into a fervour, and right now, that unknown element was far more dangerous than the Wardens. _Probably not much of a match against us, but rage can make people unpredictable, and this is not a battle I want to get involved in._

Ahead, a lone figure stood before the gates, the leader of the crowd, clad head to toe in luminescent armour, his sword raised in a challenge towards the manor. The figure spoke, a voice filled with authority and righteousness. "Your mansion will not protect you, fiend!" The sword cut through an arc, punctuating the point. "Come out and face your crimes!"

As Aedan and the others drew closer, the crowd fell silent one by one, as the villagers became aware of the newcomers. Several stepped aside as the Wardens walked by, while others tightened their grips upon the makeshift weapons, fearful of new devilry. All they needed was one excuse and they would soon find the blood they wished spilled.

The leader was the last to notice the approaching men, slowly turning around, studying the Wardens before speaking. The blade the leader carried was relaxed in his hand, ready for battle if needs be. The warrior raised the sword, aiming it towards Aedan's throat. "Who comes now? More minions of the Baroness?" The warrior peered into Aedan's eyes, as if searching for a reason to attack and for an instant the Warden Commander felt as though he was being judged, every action he had done was dragged into the light. The blade tightened in luminous hands for a moment before it was slid back into its sheathe, the warrior apparently satisfied. "No…You seem to be more helpless souls that woman has tormented."

"We are no victims. We are Grey Wardens, lured here into the Fade by our enemies." Aedan stepped forward, the air silent as the villagers watched him, still unsure of whether he was a demon or a new tormenter. He walked towards the leader of the band, studying him in turn as Aedan had been. The warrior was surrounded by a halo of light. The Warden paused, realising that what stood before him was no man, but a spirit, a natural denizen of the Fade. _A powerful enemy indeed should it choose so._

The spirit circled the Warden, thinking to itself before replying. "I do not know what a Grey Warden is, but it is clear to see that you are capable fighters." As the spirit walked in front of Aedan, it stopped, placing a hand upon its chin, muttering to itself. "Perhaps it is a sign."

"Who are you?" The question was curt, ill-tempered, echoing in the finely crafted helm. Aedan was losing patience, spirit or no.

Without looking at Aedan, the spirit replied, calm and aloof. "I am a Spirit of Justice. Long have I seethed at the injustices perpetrated here against these people." The spirit spread its arms wide, as if shielding the villages from more torment. "And now, I seek to end it!"

"Please, help us."

A villager had broken ranks, positioning herself between the Warden and the spirit of Justice. In life she had been a young woman, beautiful in a way, and though entrapment in the Fade did not age her, her eyes had told a different story, of a weary soul, desperately seeking release.

"We have been trapped here for so long." Her voice was brittle, as if the faint glimmer of hope had begun to break her. As if failure would completely destroy her.

A man approached now, resting his hand upon the woman's shoulder, trying to comfort her. "We once lived in the mortal realm, and the Baroness ruled over us." His eyes told the same story, that this was the last chance the village had for freedom, that should the spirit fail it would end them. The man continued, the woman's hand squeezing his for support, matching rings glinting in the magical light. "She was cruel, the Baroness, beyond all imagining. She would take our loved ones, our mothers, our daughters…" Tears welled up in the woman's eyes, a pain shared the man. "…Our sons, and we would never see them again, we never knew what she had done with them….." The man's voice trailed away, contemplating what could have occurred to the missing, the thoughts forcing the man to shut his eyes, to seal away the pain.

The woman spoke again, her voice cracking. "After she had stolen another child, we had had enough and attacked her manor. We do not know what happened after that, all we know now is that we are trapped her, still under her power." She turned from the Warden, pushing herself into her husband's arms, grief overwhelming them.

"These people have suffered long enough." The spirit strode past the desperate couple. His tone was insistent, yet firm. "You seem capable, I ask you, help me free these people from the tyranny of the Baroness."

Anders had crept forward, whispering in Aedan's ear, Oghren and Nathaniel edging closer to hear the mage's opinion. "Commander, I feel for these people, truly. But we need to find the First, the longer we remain trapped here, the more difficult it will be to return us to our..."

Aedan cut him off before the mage could finish. "We're helping them."

"Why?" The sheer surprise on Anders' face brought a small smile to Aedan's lips, hidden beneath the heavy, dwarven helm.

"Two reasons. Firstly, if we cannot find the First, this spirit may know of some way to return us to our bodies."

"And the second reason, Commander?" It was Nathaniel, voicing the question on Oghren and Anders' minds.

Aedan shrugged, before he made his way to the waiting Spirit of Justice. "It'll be fun."

"Uh huh…" Anders brought his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, more worried than annoyed by the Commander's actions. "Just so you know, this "fun" looks a little bit like "stupid" from over here."

"Anders, your objection is duly noted, and ignored." Aedan brought himself to a halt by the Spirit, never taking his eyes off the manor before them. "Spirit, we will help you, in return, will you help us back to our mortal bodies?"

The spirit nodded solemnly. "I am uncertain if I will be of any use, but I shall try." The spirit turned back towards the villagers, his voice booming with self-assured righteousness. "Good people, with these warriors by our side, we now have to strength to overthrow the Baroness. You will have your freedom!"

Aedan stood back as the Spirit of Justice strode to the gates, summoning strength as it drew closer and lashed out at the gates. In a flash of light, the gate exploded, shards of black iron scarring the walls of the manor, allowing it, Aedan and the other Wardens to storm the manor's courtyard, the villagers following at a safe distance.

The doors of the manor creaked open, as two figures slithered from the darkness, demons hissing and cursing the intruders as a third figure approached, a woman. Dressed in the finest Orlesian silks and fur, the woman had a stately, arrogant manner surrounding her. A cruel malevolence stared at the Wardens from cold eyes. Dark, brown hair had been knotted and tied into a twist. Her face had the severity of a grim statue, as if it had been carved from granite, eternal and unchanging.

The Baroness had arrived.

Immediately the spirit had its sword drawn, the blade pointed towards the Baroness, the anger the spirit felt was palpable and infectious, leaving a bitter taste in Aedan's mouth. "Foul sorceress! You will release these poor folk and submit yourself to justice!"

"Justice? Where was the justice when these barbarians attacked and burned down my home!" Save for the memories he had of his discussions with Leliana, the Orlesian accent from the Baroness was exactly as Aedan had come to expect, haughty, condescending and arrogant. _This woman has slaughtered how many people and has the audacity to claim to be the victim? I'm impressed the bitch could say that with a straight face._

"These, **people**, as you claim them to be, were sworn to serve me. I asked little of them and still they betrayed me. Whatever happened to them was of their own doing." The Baroness' arm swept through the air, the villagers instinctively flinching in fear.

Only one stood her ground. The woman who had implored Aedan to aid them. Hot tears streaked her cheeks as she stood defiant against the Baroness. The villager choked back the tears as she spoke, the words unintelligible at first, before Aedan realised the villager had accused the Baroness of murdering their children for her own selfish needs.

The Baroness dismissed the claims with a wave of her hand, unmoved by the accusations lain before her. "As I said, you serve me, you and your families are mine to do with as I wish. Leave now and I promise my retribution will not be too severe."

"Never fiend! Your crimes must be answered for now!" The spirit prepared to assault the Baroness, only to be held back by Aedan as the Commander nodded towards several shadows emerging from the darkness behind the Baroness.

"You have found allies spirit," The Baroness sneered at the Wardens as the First and the last of its followers stood beside the woman. "But, then, so have I."

The First spat at Aedan, pointing at him for the Baroness' sake. "Be finishing the Warden now, before it can…"

The sentence was never finished as a dagger embedded itself into the First's shoulder, Aedan's outstretched arm reaching for the sheathed blades on his back. "Damn. Still alive."

The First wrenched the dagger free, roaring as a spurt of black blood stained the wall of the manor.

"You should have picked a better ally, milady." The tone was sarcastic, disrespectful, showing the same contempt for the Baroness as the woman had shown Aedan and the others. His stride was slow and purposeful, the blades drawn and hanging loose by his side. Anders and Nathaniel had taken a defensive stance as the Spirit of Justice and Oghren followed Aedan. Two of the Hurlocks charged the approaching Wardens, the first decapitated in a swift movement from Aedan's sword, the second pinned to a pillar by the Spirit as Oghren slammed his axe into the fiend's chest.

"Darkspawn are notoriously bad allies. Truth be told, the only thing they can be relied upon is to die quite horribly." A third Hurlock attacked, its throat sliced open as Oghren stunned one of the Baroness' demonic bodyguards, executing it with a swift fall of the heavy axe. "As you have just seen. Surrender and your death will be swift. Don't…and, well…let's just say it'll be painful."

By now the First had recovered and gripped the Baroness' robes, staining the silk with bloody hand prints. "Be sending us back now! As you promised!"

The Baroness sneered again, and pushed the Darkspawn Disciple away from her, her anger rising, both towards the Grey Wardens and the Darkspawn before her. "Oh, I will send you back, but you will provide the power to do so, beast."

As the implications of what the Baroness dawned upon the First, the Disciple showed what must have passed for fear and tried to run, only for ethereal hands to grip its body. Wisps of light were drawn from the First's body, the life fading from its eyes before its body went limp and fell to the ground.

Try as he might, Aedan was unable to move, an unseen force holding him in place. A wave of white light washed over the Warden and with it unconsciousness. As the darkness swallowed him, one thought crossed Aedan's mind before he blacked out. _Definitely not the first in his class!_

* * *

Drops of rain tapped the helm of his armour, the continuous patter stirring Aedan from his slumber. Around him lay the bodies of the First and the other Darkspawn, all dead, with no visible wounds. Anders, Nathaniel and Oghren were right where the First had left them when it had trapped them in the Fade. Apparently they were alright, the Dwarf's snoring confirming Aedan's suspicions.

They were free from the Fade.

Nathaniel was the first to awaken, unsure whether it was a dream or if they were out of the nightmare. The archer's shoulders slumped in relief as he heard Oghren, certain that only the mortal realm would have that particular horror.

Soon, Anders and Oghren had woken up, searching the Darkspawn remains for useful items, the Dwarf particularly taken with the double handed sword the First carried. None contested Oghren's claim to the blade.

As the others prepared to destroy the Darkspawn remains, Aedan stared at the note intently. Even after all this time, trapped by the First, he had kept a hold of the proposal. The letter had been written in a simple manner, the words lovingly chosen as though a great deal of thought had gone into the process. At first he had wished to destroy the letter, and with it end a fool's errand. And yet as his hand enclosed the faded paper, something in his mind stopped him. Whatever it was had appeared in a flash, a memory or a final daydream. For the briefest moment he saw red lips in a smile. And just as quickly as flash appeared, it was gone.

Staring at the proposal, Aedan carefully folded the note and placed it in his armour.

Putting that foolishness out of his mind, Aedan turned his attention to Kristoff, the fallen Grey Warden. Nathaniel and Oghren were debating whether to leave the remains in the Blackmarsh or to take them back to the Vigil for a proper service.

"Don't you be expecting me to do any of the sodding lifting, lad." Oghren brought the mead skin to his lips, downing the contents in one go. "I say we return him to the Stone. It's where Grey Wardens usually end up right?"

"Oghren, he deserves a proper funeral pyre. He is one of ours, we can't just leave him here to be picked at by wild animals."

"Are you deaf you thunderhumper? I said return him to the Stone, we cover him with some stones."

Aedan was about to voice his opinion when Kristoff's body moved, dead eyes flickering open. The body jolted up, fearful of the surroundings, clawing at the muddy ground beneath it. A voice spoke out, instantly recognisable as the Spirit of Justice's. "A body of flesh? This cannot be!"

"The spirit?" Aedan reached down, pulling the body up. "How is this possible?"

"The Baroness… She did it!" Kristoff's body seemed to calm down as the spirit exerted a measure of control. "When she sent you back… I…must have been drawn to this body. You must help me!"

Nathaniel was the first to answer. "How spirit? How can we send you back?"

The spirit snapped at Nathaniel. "Not me, the Baroness! When she activated that spell, it allowed her to cross the Veil. She is here in the mortal realm!"

Aedan looked around, searching for Anders and beckoning the mage to the discussion. "And your point is?"

"The Baroness is a far greater threat than you could realise."

Oghren snorted as he uncorked another mead flask. "Hmph, what else is new? And I suppose you want us to kill her too?"


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"Monster"

_You call me demon, little boy, but you are far more monstrous than I could ever hope to be._

The words echoed in his mind, lost in the darkness of the night as he lay alone in the chamber, staring at the ceiling. The last words of the Baroness as her demonic body was destroyed by blade and incantation. The words only Aedan had heard as time caught up with the Baroness and claimed its due, her body turning to dust, the others too pleased with themselves to have escaped the Fade and could leave the Blackmarsh to hear the raspy declaration.

All pleased to have survived again. All proud that they had prevented evil from spreading and that the former residents of the village could finally find peace.

All save the spirit.

Justice, as it insisted on being called, had stood by Aedan, sombre. Unsure of what had happened to it, the spirit was almost terrified that it was trapped in the mortal realm. The spirit had announced it had no purpose, while at the same time it was being overwhelmed by the memories of the slain Grey Warden Kristoff.

Though it had felt like months since that battle, in truth in had been a matter of days, Aedan had difficulty remembering the exact circumstances that had led to the spirit joining the Wardens, his mind still focussing on the Baroness's words. All he knew was that Justice had been indispensible as memories of Darkspawn movement and clues to the main nest became clearer and clearer. Varel had put the knowledge to good use, sending soldiers to the villages and hamlets most likely to be attacked by the Darkspawn. Though Vigil's Keep would be undermanned until reinforcements could arrive from Denerim, it's defences ensured that it would hold, the reconstructed walls supposedly proof against everything short of an Archdemon.

_Archdemon….Scourge of the world, destroyer of cities and civilisation. A monster by any other name._

Rising up from the bed, Aedan looked around the room, his eyes used to the darkness, the bookcase on the opposite wall of the room had remained where it was, the same place it had been when he checked an hour before. The bed had been sturdily built, comfortable, though he felt little comfort any more. Even without the light of a candle or the moon to aid him, Aedan crossed the room to the small washstand, his movements sluggish and heavy. In the distance he could hear a rider approach. Not that he cared.

It had puzzled him on several occasions, was his exhaustion from a lack of sleep, or something else? Guilt perhaps? That so many would need to suffer or die before he could arrive to aid them. Or something more…sinister? In the past few months he knew he felt more alive in battle, but had it gotten to the stage where that was the only way he could function? To kill? Slaughter? Inflict pain?

Scooping a handful of water, he paused, staring at the sight before him in the water. The face looking back at him under the water still had the same green eyes, the same black hair, the same lips, the same markings. All belonged to Aedan Cousland, but was that who he really was now? He knew something had changed in him in Kal'Hirol; something had risen and carried him from Death. It had kept him alive and allowed him to thrive, but he had thought he had lost something…vital.

And yet, even now, he felt the stirring of a past he thought had died.

Splashing his face, Aedan stepped away from the basin, walking towards the small desk in the corner of the room. Lighting a lone candle, the Warden searched the drawer of the desk, quickly growing impatient. About to swear to himself, Aedan caught sight of his prize and reached for it, a small, folded piece of paper, yellowed with age, stained with dirt and the decades passing in a bottle. The edges had become worn and torn; the Warden carefully opened the letter and reread the words as he had done every night since his return from the marsh.

The words had been carefully thought of, written by an unsteady hand. Several times there had been sudden stops to the letter as though nervousness claimed the author, perhaps to calm himself again before continuing. The letter was simple, a declaration of love asking his beloved, a woman by the name of Bonny apparently, to marry him. He wondered what happened to the pair as his lips moved, silently speaking the letter. Did Bonny accept? Did the pair get married? Or did they perish too when the village was taken into the Fade by the Baroness?

Folding the letter again, Aedan slide the ancient letter back into its place, his mind returning to the Baroness. The battle had been quick and brutal as he and the others sought to stop her mad plans. The mage had been powerful in life but after so many years in the Fade, there had been nothing of her humanity left, instead pride and conceit had grown in its place, changing her into something more demon than human.

And still her final words haunted him.

_You call me demon, little boy, but you are far more monstrous than I could ever hope to be._

Was it a last spiteful taunt? Or had the Baroness been right? Aedan knew he had a short life before him, the Darkspawn taint in his body would slowly kill him, but would it make him a monster? Or did the Baroness know about him? Leaning back in the chair, the young man let loose a tired sigh as he remembered all he had done since becoming a Grey Warden. Was that changing him? He knew the people of Ferelden still called him a hero, but he also knew that every time he heard the word uttered he felt sick to his stomach. After a moment, Aedan rose from the chair as he came to a horrifying conclusion.

_I've killed people… I've slaughtered enough people to create a river of blood and they still call me a hero? Why? I'm a glorified murderer._ _She was right! I'm no hero! I'm a monster in a man's skin! Oh Maker!_

The pain ripped through his body before the nausea could take him. Aedan tried to walk, but collapsed by the desk, knocking over several of the books that had been left behind. Dragging himself to the door, a hundred possibilities crossed Aedan's mind as he tried to gasp for breath. Poison? A magical attack? It didn't matter, his body was no longer his own, the pain has becoming too much for him.

Just as suddenly as the pain had begun, it had stopped. Gathering himself from the floor, Aedan steadied himself, gripping the desk. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Beads of sweat formed on his body. His vision swam, the world around him swirling. Clasping his eyes shut, Aedan tried to control his breathing, slowly calming himself, his knuckles white.

Braving the chance that he was alright, Aedan opened his eyes and focussed on his hand, on the rosewood ring on his finger. As he watched the patterns shift, it dawned on Aedan what the source of the pain had been. He had been wrong. It wasn't his pain, it was **hers**. The ring had always been a link between Morrigan and Aedan and now he could understand how much of a link they shared. Morrigan was in labour, giving birth to the reason why he still lived.

That night in Redcliffe should have been the greatest night of his life, creating a new life with the woman he loved. Now all he felt was pain, confusion. And one question ran through his mind.

The door opened, as Seneschal Varel stood in the archway, his face grim and pained.

Without looking away from the ring, Aedan acknowledged the veteran's presence. "What is it Varel?"

"The Darkspawn have begun their assault…" Varel stepped into the chamber, clutching a rolled sheet of paper, the wax seal of the city broken. "It's Amaranthine, Ser. The Darkspawn are attacking Amaranthine!"

Nodding, Aedan walked towards the suit of armour, catching his reflection in the polished surface of the helmet. "Wake the others." He held the helm in his hands for a second, studying his reflection, before placing it on his head. "We go to war."

Varel saluted and left the chamber, bellowing orders to the guards on duty, leaving Aedan alone in the chamber save for his own thoughts.

One question remained in his mind, rising above all the others.

_What kind of monster am I?_


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"Siege"

Amaranthine burned.

Even as she approached the Dragonbone Wastes with her bodyguard, the night sky glowing orange, Savine knew the end was coming, for her, for Tarven and their followers. With nothing left save for revenge, the former Grey Warden would make sure all the players in this mad game would die before she did. If nothing else, she would see the Architect's plans fall to ruin, a fitting price for the betrayal of their bargain. Even if it cost her her last breath, she would bathe in the blood of her enemies and make them pay.

A gust of wind and a moving shadow snapped the mage out of her reverie, as her followers spread out, their weapons at the ready. Danger was approaching, and with time against her, Savine had little time for distractions. As she looked at the night sky, the Elf could see the unmistakeably form a High Dragon barrelling towards her, its gaping maw glowing like a star in the darkness of the sky.

"It begins."

* * *

Cleaving his way through a Hurlock, the Orlesian scanned down the streets of Amaranthine, seeking new bodies to kill, uncaring if they were human or Darkspawn. He was sure the flames were burning his skin, yet any sensation had long since faded away, the corruption in his body killing off the nerves in his body. Even his senses had begun to deaden, he could no longer smell the tang of burning flesh as a nearby Darkspawn lay dead amongst the fires, his sight teary as the smoke affected his vision.

All Tarven Duveaux wanted was blood and in the streets of Amaranthine he was finding more than enough to slake his thirst.

A young child stumbled into view before the warrior. Allowing himself a smile, his lipless mouth revealing rows of sharpened teeth, Tarven raised the blade above his head, preparing to strike the boy down, and paused. Before, as a Grey Warden, Tarven could sense Darkspawn, using the Taint in their body to track them. Now, as something less than human, the warrior could use the Taint to track his former allies. He could feel them approaching, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and with them, the Grey Warden Commander. Lifting the blade to his mouth, a blackened tongue licked the blood, revelling in the anticipation of the hunt before him.

* * *

Before the gates of Amaranthine seven Grey Wardens, a dozen soldiers led by Captain Garavel were behind them, clasping shields bearing the bear crest of the city, fought their way through the Darkspawn. It was all that could be spared until the rest of the Keep's troops had been recalled from their patrols. Despite the fact that troops from Denerim and Highever were on their way, Amaranthine was on its own.

As each Warden fought to defend the city, each thought to themselves, asking why they battled, what kept them from running away, saving themselves from the horrors before them. As each asked themselves why, each found the answer came to them almost instantly.

For the berserker, he remembered the battle of Denerim and hunting down the Archdemon, how he was able to prove to himself that he was indeed worthy of his caste. His friend had faith in him, that he was more than a drunkard, that his life had not been wasted. Flashes of the battle through the winding streets as the pair made their way towards Fort Drakon, the Witch and the Mabari close behind, ran through his mind. And yet, in less than a year, so much had changed. He had been a general in King Alistair's army, married with a child on the way. Now, he was a Grey Warden, his old life behind him, and pangs of regret tore at his heart. Would his son understand? Or would he be able to explain one day which he made that decision? Shaking his head as Amaranthine loomed closer; Oghren's determination grew with each step, he would make it through this battle, to see his son and to prove he was worthy of being a father.

For the mage, apprehension raked through his mind. Before him stood a city in flames, a horde of bloodthirsty creatures roaming the streets, intent on slaughtering those who dwelt within the city walls. It was that thought that kept him going, the hundreds within who could not defend themselves, who needed help. Before, he would have been considered a maleficar, an abomination-in-waiting by the simple fact that he was born a mage. An accident of birth and his whole life had been decided for him. A life he had railed against for as long as he could remember, seeking for a freedom to make his own decisions. And now as a Grey Warden he had that freedom, given to him by a stranger he had met amongst the broken bodies of Templars and Darkspawn, and the first choice that came to mind was to protect those that needed him. Amaranthine might burn to ashes, but Anders knew he could save its citizens and to prove to the world his worth.

For the nobleman, angered surged through his veins. Everything his family had spent generations defending was being brought to ruin, not by the hand of the Darkspawn, but by his father's greed. Thanks to the ambitions of Rendon Howe, Ferelden had stood on the brink of destruction, it's best weapon against the Blight broken at Ostagar, save for two men, who despite the odds, fought hardship and terror to undo the mistakes his father and Teryn Loghain made. One mistake and the name Howe was vilified and spat upon. Yet, even now, with his sister Delilah trapped within the city his family once protected, a city which despised him now, Nathaniel knew he had a chance to redeem the name Howe. And he would not waste that chance.

For the Keeper, the city was just another symbol of the foolishness of the Shem race, and a reminder that they deserved whatever torment they suffered at the hands of the Darkspawn. Yet despite the hated she felt for Humanity, the young elf knew her sister could be within the walls, that if Seranni was there, there was a chance of forgiving herself for allowing her kin and friends dying for her vengeance against the wrongs done against her people. Staring at the flames, Velanna knew that given the choice she would have left the city to burn, but if Seranni was there, if she could save her sister from the Architect, then, perhaps she could one day forgive herself.

For the Legionnaire, the city was another mark of who she was, Legion of the Dead, sworn to die fighting the Darkspawn. It didn't matter if was in the Deep Roads or on the surface, as long as the Darkspawn stood before her, she would cut them down, all the while seeking her own death. Her whole life had been a constant reminder that she was worthless, a drain on the "good citizens" of Orzammar. So if her life had no meaning, then her death would have to do instead, her life so that others could life. But as a Grey Warden her life had meaning, she had a duty to fulfil. For Sigrun, her duty was to stand between the world and the Darkspawn. If it meant her death, so much the better.

For the spirit, the burning city before it was just another reason why this tainted menace must be stopped. As it retrieved the memories of a dead man, the spirit felt indignation at the flashes of death and suffering the beasts caused wherever they went. That these creatures could go about unpunished irked at the spirit's sense of honour. Though it's time in the mortal world had been short, it had learned much, that even a world filled with beauty needed to be defended. It would avenge those killed by the Darkspawn, the people within Amaranthine, the Orlesian Grey Wardens slaughtered at Vigil's Keep, Kristoff. Justice would be served, it….he would live up to his ideal.

For the Warden, though his eyes stare at the flames, and though his ears could hear the screams carried in the night sky, his mind is focused on someone else, half a continent away. Despite the roar of the fires, the barking of orders, the clash of sword against shield, all he hears is **her** cries of pain as **she** gives birth to their child. With each passing wave of pain she feels, he braces himself, wishing that he was there, while at the same time afraid of what will come. He wonders if the child will be simply that, a child. Or had he saved his own life to bring about the return of an Old God? He wonders if it would have been better if he had refused her offer of salvation in Redcliffe, to die slaying the Archdemon. Doubt crept into his soul, a little voice mocking him, calling him weak, a coward, telling him that others always died so that he could live. Aedan Cousland knew his life was a mockery, that there was no way of saving himself. If he should die this night, perhaps that would put things right.

* * *

As his armoured footfalls echoed across the stone halls of Denerim palace, Alistair swore to himself as he struggled with the pauldron strap. Word had just arrived of the attack on Amaranthine, the messenger and his horse exhausted by the ride. As troops crisscrossed before him, preparing to march to war once again, the King caught sight of Arl Eamon, the older man struggling to stop a soldier for information. As soon as their eyes locked on each other, the Arl bounded forward, pushing past soldiers as he tried to catch up with Alistair, before he finally grabbed the former Warden's wrist.

"Your Majesty, what is happening?" His voice was panicked, impatient.

"Where have you been Eamon? The Darkspawn have launched their attack, Amaranthine is under siege; apparently Esermelle is dead, hung herself right before the attack. Word has been sent to Vigil's Keep and to Highever." The King never broke stride as he made his way to the armoury, all the while adjusting his armour.

Eamon looked at the younger man quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to war."

The Arl leapt before Alistair, blocking his way. "You can't! The King must stay in Denerim! If you…."

"Why Eamon? Because you say so?" Alistair pushed past him, slamming the Arl against the wall. "Because I'm Maric's son? Would he have stayed behind while his brother was in need of help? Because from what I understand he would be the first one out the gates. I don't care for my father's name or this lineage, my brother is in need of aid, I won't abandon him!"

Looking at the Arl for a moment, Alistair sighed and walked towards the armoury. "Stay here Eamon, you'll be more use."

* * *

Her screams tore through the silence of the night as the pain became unbearable, the urge to push growing stronger with each second. Beads of sweat ran down her brow as the Witch tried to summon the last of her energy for one final push, her magic useless to ease the labour. Taking in a deep breath, Morrigan screamed, pushing with all her might.

Silence hung in the air, as she reached forward, exhausted, wrapping the child in a warm blanket. With each passing second, anxiety and worry grew as the new born remained silent. As she started to panic, a slight cough rose from the baby's lips, swiftly followed by a cry.

Holding the baby close, Morrigan smiled, which became an exhausted laugh, ignoring the tears streaming across her cheeks as she examined the baby.

* * *

It seemed, as always, that he had a difficult choice to make. As they had made their way towards the gates of Amaranthine, Aedan and the Wardens had met up with the city's Constable and his guards, trying to keep the gates clear as survivors trickled through to safety. Fully intent on entering the city, news had come from a Disciple of the Architect that Vigil's Keep was under attack from a second Darkspawn army. Either he abandoned the city and those left within to their fates, or he could let the Vigil fall, though the walls would be proof against the Darkspawn, there simply wasn't enough troops to man the walls for long without help. Before anyone could stop the Disciple, it had run off into the woods.

"Commander, the city is lost. We cannot afford to lose the Vigil!" Garavel called back as he directed his troops and the Constable's forces down the road.

Hefting his axe on his back, Oghren turned towards Aedan. "He's right boss. We can still beat the army at the keep, the city is already in flames, we can just trap the bastards in the city, let 'em burn."

Almost immediately, Anders, Sigrun and Justice burst into a counter argument, that the city was more important, that the Keep could last. Turning away from the argument, Aedan knew time was short. Removing his gauntlet and his helmet, he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes red, both from the smoke and from the tears welling up. Despite the pain he had felt moments beforehand, as Morrigan screamed through labour alone, he could now feel immense joy from his lover as their child had been born. Unwilling to burden her with what he was feeling and unseen by the others, Aedan removed the rosewood ring from his finger, slipping it into a pouch on his belt.

His decision made, Aedan turned back, facing the Dwarf, quickly replacing the helmet before anyone could see the tears well up in his eyes. "Oghren, head back to the Keep with Garavel. Take Justice and Velanna with you."

The Dwarf nodded, and half turned, before looking back in shock. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Into the city. Anders, you, Sigrun and Nathaniel will come with me."

The Berserker ran forward gripping Aedan's wrist. "Boss, you heard the Constable, the city is gone, we've lost it! Don't waste your time saving the dead!"

Pulling away from his friend, Aedan looked down, their eyes locking. "Oghren, I can't abandon them. I won't abandon them. Go back to the Keep, they'll need you. And you're the only one I trust to beat them back."

Neither Warden spoke, until Oghren nodded. "Aye, boss, I'll do that. I'll try to keep a barrel of my brew safe too, you're going to come back and you and I are going to crack it open. Right Aedan?"

"Of course Oghren. Now go."

Running towards the soldiers, Oghren beckoned them to follow, Justice and Velanna looking back as the other Wardens marched into the city. "ALRIGHT! YOU HEARD THE BOSS! LET'S GO! THOSE DARKSPAWN WON'T KILL THEMSELVES YOU KNOW!"

Unsheathing his blades, Aedan looked back towards the Dwarf, and thought to himself. _Goodbye Oghren. Look after them._

Amaranthine burned and Aedan Cousland walked past the flames, preparing to battle once again.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"Blood Debts"

Even from his vantage point high above the Wastes, his blighted skin could feel the searing heat of the flames. Behind his mask, behind his cold nature, the Architect was furious that his plans and his hope were starting to unravel before his eyes. Below was proof that Savine and Tarven had betrayed him, putting their own agenda before their alliance with him.

Below, the Darkspawn could see lightning arc across the ancient beast's body, its roar of anger and pain causing the Dwarf beside him to cover her own ears. A pained look in the Dwarf's usually dead eyes gave the Architect pause as he saw the Dragon turn, grasping one of the former Wardens in its jaws, crushing the life from the Ghoul.

"Come Utha; let us hope the Ferelden Wardens are more reasonable." His long, tapering fingers rested on the Dwarf's shoulder, urging her to move away from the gruesome massacre unfurling before them. "Perhaps we will be able to repair what has been undone before it is too late."

By now, only a few of the Orlesian Wardens remained alive, the rest dead at the claws of the High Dragon. One of the Wardens broke away from the combat, the shape similar to an Elf, now coupled with the loping action one associated with the Shrieks.

Only Savine and another remained to combat the Dragon, a warrior wielding a greatsword darted back and forth at the dying beast, often avoided the claws and flailing tail. Savine would occasionally throw a ball of ice at the creature, barking commands at the warrior until the tail of the Dragon caught the mage by surprise, pitching her off her feet.

Seeing his chance, the swordsman leapt at the Dragon, plunging his blade deep into the scaled flesh of its neck, answered by the dying roar of the Dragon. Jumping triumphantly from the beast as it crashed to the ground, the warrior turned as if to survey his victory, only to slump to his knees, bracing himself with his sword. After a moment, his hand limply fell away from the sword.

It was not just Dragons that came to die in the Wastes.

High above the scene, on the cliffs overlooking the battle field, the Architect and Utha watched as a lone figure crawled towards to entrance of the Mother's nest. As Savine left the dead behind, the Architect moved along the path leading to the ancient tower that dominated the Wastes. As the Darkspawn walked away, Utha stood alone, remembering some of those who died that night as new recruits to the Wardens, so many years ago, before she…

"Leave them Utha. Savine has made her choice, we must now make ours."

* * *

War waged beyond the doors of the Chantry, the Darkspawn baying and clawing at the old Oak panels, hungry for the blood of the defenders inside. It had taken much of the day but the Grey Wardens and the City Guard had driven back much of the invaders in the Market District.

Blood had stained the streets of the market as the Wardens clove their way through the horde, aiding the beleaguered soldiers where they could, pushing their way to the Chantry, supposedly the most secure building in the city, and where many of the district's citizens had gone, according to the first soldiers Aedan had come across.

Even to the Warden it made sense to go there, the thick walls providing protection and shelter, and a staging point for the defenders to move out against the Darkspawn. It had been a simple plan.

But no plan, no matter how simple, lasts forever or contact with the enemy.

As they approached the stone steps to the Chantry, dozens of the Children burst forth from several of the buildings nearby, and threatened to overwhelm the Wardens and the survivors in a wave of teeth and claws. By some miracle, Anders had been the first to react, gouts of flames erupting from his hands, engulfing the wretched, scuttling creatures, driving them back and allowing the soldiers to get to the keep, before the mage scrambled up the steps, the Darkspawn snapping at his heels.

_And here we are, brave hero. Trapped in a glorified mausoleum with but one entrance. Clever boy._

Several soldiers stood with the Commander, their bodies pressed against the door, trying to hold back the Darkspawn as Sigrun and a group of survivors brought the pews forward, barricading the entrance. Behind the frantic push, Nathaniel directed the confused groups around the Chantry, letting loose an occasional arrow at the Darkspawn through the cracks forming in the door. All the while Anders darted from the injured and wounded, moving each group to the rear of the Chantry.

"Shore up that door; we can't let the Darkspawn into the building!" Aedan's voice bellowed through the passages and eaves of the old building, rising above the din of panic and battle. "ANDERS! ANY HELP YOU CAN OFFER WOULD BE APPRECIATED!"

The mage looked back, carrying two young children in his arms, eerily calm despite the growing chaos around him. "Oh well seeing as you asked so nicely I suppose I can - I'M TRYING TO NOT GET MYSELF KILLED OVER HERE COMMANDER!"

The door jolted open as the Darkspawn charged again, several crashing into the pews and tables, easily cut down by the soldiers as others desperately tried to repair the damage done before the Darkspawn numbers could be brought to bear.

_You know that it is useless. You are the only one who sees it child, that every Darkspawn you cut down two more take its place. You would be better off trying to fight the tide; you would have more success too._

_Shut up._

A Hurlock burst before Aedan's face through the cracks of the door, hissing at the humans as it tried to slash at them with a crudely crafted dagger. Its efforts were rewarded by Aedan grasping the creature's arm and wretched the blade free, as Anders ran behind the soldiers and cast a spell of the bitterest southern wind, the Hurlock's arm freezing in an instant. With a grunt, Aedan shattered the arm and threw the remains back at its fellows, the Hurlock cracking and exploding into thousands of pieces.

_Ah, what's this? The boy chooses to stand for himself? Does he see himself as a man? All I see is a monster in a man's skin. I see a coward who chose to bring an abomination into this world rather than sacrifice himself like so many before him._

_Shut up!_

The Darkspawn numbers were beginning to tell, as another soldier fell to the ground, his stomach pierced by the rusted blades. Anders dragged the soldier away in time to see the door giving in to the weapons of the Darkspawn, splintering with each blow, each dull thud answered by a loud dry crack of wood.

_You know it is true. These simpletons call you a hero, but we both know that is not true. You are a liar, a cheat, a wretched creature. You are a child playing at war, crying out for his mother and father. You. Will. Die. Is that not the fate of all beasts?_

He did not know if he was screaming in defiance at the Darkspawn or whatever was haunting him, all Aedan knew was that he was now amongst the Darkspawn, sword in hand as he fought them off, cutting and hacking his way through them. Each blow stained the white metal of his armour black with the blood of Hurlock and Genlock alike. Once or twice a blade would pierce his armour, drawing blood, spurring him to move faster, attack harder.

Each sensation of pain drove him forward fuelling him to kill, to satisfy the thirst he had to end those who stood against him, to inflict on them the pain he, and others, had suffered.

And as soon as it had begun, it was over, weariness washed over him as hands gripped his shoulders, catching him before he could collapse from exhaustion. Through the haze he could hear the Constable shouting to his men. "Quickly! The Commander has driven them off! Barricade that door!"

A warm glow enveloped the Warden's wounds as he tried to make sense of what had happened, Anders had knelt next to Aedan healing his injuries, the mage's brow covered in beads of sweat.

Having made sure that no Darkspawn survived the carnage, Nathaniel swooped low next to the pair, a surprised and confused grin crossing his face. "Well Aedan, I don't know how you did it again but it seems you've bought us a chance to breathe. Let's use it and take the fight to them."

"Oh great." Anders sat back, tired and exhausted by his efforts during the attack as Sigrun approached the trio, her usual perky self. "There was me thinking I could retire to the countryside, have a nice garden full of trees. But no, we get to fight some more Darkspawn. Well, I guess if we can stop them here, that'll be something."

_Yes, you get to battle again. You get to battle a foe that is more human than you could ever be. Hmmm, perhaps one of them will take pity on you and end your monstrous existence._

Wiping his brow, the Anders paused before looking at his fellow Wardens, the same thought and concern etched on Sigrun and Nathaniel's face. "I only hope the Keep is faring better than we have so far."

* * *

"Come on you sodding bastards, get your arses moving!" A Genlock fell, cut down by the large axe, punctuating the Dwarf's command. "Archers! Get back here now! Fall back to the keep!"

The fighting had become desperate. Though Wade's skill at the forge had ensured that the Keep's soldiers had fine armour and weapons, it did little to settle the balance. The Darkspawn were simply too many to battle across an extended front, even Voldrik's walls could barely contain the sheer horde that assaulted the keep. As much as he hated to admit it, Oghren knew he had to pull men back. The idea had clashed with every fibre of his being; he had never run away from a fight with the Darkspawn in his life. The berserker in him screamed to be let loose amongst his enemy and cut them down like he had been trained to do since he was a nugget.

And had it just been the Dwarf by himself, he would have done it. But things were different now, and Oghren knew he had to do the right thing, not for himself, but for Felsi and their child. And for his friend, fighting the same enemy in Amaranthine.

_Hmm, even if it does mean running away from these moss lickers._

"Creators, is there no end to them? They're everywhere!" Velanna stood with him, summoning columns of flame upon the Darkspawn as they entered the courtyard. The air had soon become filled with thick, black smoke, carrying with it the stench of burning flesh, seemingly ignored by the fighters battling for their lives on the corpse choked grounds.

"Ha! It just means that no one has to wait their turn!" Another Genlock slumped to the ground, decapitated. "Plenty of the sods to go around!"

"These Darkspawn are a cancer on this world, and they must be stopped!" Justice crashed into a Hurlock mage as it prepared to attack the pair of Wardens, his heavy shield cracking the creature's head as his mace finished the grisly task.

Oghren nodded to himself, another group of soldiers hurrying passed them. "So you've said, Justice!" Several Shrieks charged at the Grey Wardens, cut down before they could reach their targets by the archers already in the Vigil. Oghren threw up an obscene gesture at the fallen creatures, adding insult to their death. "In fact, you've said that a lot!"

"Only because it is true. I may not have much time left in this body, but I will spend every last second I can ensuring this world and its beauty remains untouched by these cursed creatures!"

_Gotta admire the bag of meat, he hasn't been here long, but he's got the hang of what it is to be a Grey Warden._

"Ha! For once I agree with you!" Oghren motioned to his fellow Wardens as the last group of archers approached. "Get in the keep! Velanna, Justice, you too. Make sure they don't get through the gate!"

"What about you Oghren?" He was as surprised to hear the question from the Elf as she was asking him. Neither Warden liked the other, yet there was an understanding between the two. Their safety, perhaps at the cost of the Dwarf's.

In an instant, Oghren grinned, hefting the bloody two handed axe before him, clenched it in his armoured gauntlets. "I'm going to show these sodding bastards why I call this axe the Ravager!"

"I…" Velanna shook her head at the sacrifice being offered up to save the lives of the humans inside the Keep. Whispering to herself, the broad head of the axe glowed before bursting into flames. "Thank you Oghren, dareth shiral."

Justice offered his hand to Oghren. "I may have underestimated you Dwarf. You are a just soul. I pray that we meet again, be it this world or the next."

Taking the proffered hand in a warrior's grasp, Oghren sighed, pointing towards the gate. "Go on, get out of here."

Alone, Oghren waited for the final attack by the Darkspawn, his thoughts of Felsi and their child. There was so much he wanted to say to them, to explain to the both of them why he joined the Grey Wardens. He thought to help a friend, no, a brother, one who had helped him find his way. And also to knock some sense into Aedan's head, _the nug brained idiot_.

Movement in the smoke broke the Dwarf from his thoughts, as the Darkspawn darted and feinted, before finally retreating back into the smoke, signalling two large Ogres to burst forth, covered in salvaged armour, swords tied to their wrists, bellowing a challenge to the Keep.

Beneath his helmet Oghren smiled, roaring at the Ogres before charging. "Two of you? Well come on, there's plenty of Oghren to go around!"

* * *

_Hunt. Kill. Rip. Hunt. Kill. Tear._

The ogre lay dead at his feet, it's throat sliced open by Tarven's sword, the blade hidden beneath layers of blood and ichor. Only a few of his warriors remained, most dragged down in an ambush by the Children near the Market District. Those who remained had once been members of his inner circle, the Wardens whom he had served with in Val Royeaux, each his equal in skill and in loyalty. Each one of them wholeheartedly agreed to his and Savine's plan when they learned of their fate, swearing a blood oath to stand with Tarven until the end, whatever that may be. Each he would have considered his friend and brother, and each he had forgotten as the song grew louder and louder.

A blond archer crept towards to knight, what little hair he had left hung loosely in clumps, the rest having long fallen out thanks to the Taint in his body. "Tarven! We can't get to the Fereldens!" The archer pointed towards the Chantry, a dozen or so longbowmen guarded the building. Pleading with his commander, the man tried to reason with Tarven, unaware he was long lost to the Calling. "We should find Savine, and then hunt the Architect. Get him to free us."

_Hunt. Kill. Rip._

"Too many of us have died already." The archer spun Tarven around, staring into the knight's dead black eyes. For the briefest moment the archer realised what was about to happen, but knew that it was inevitable. "We need to...Urgh!"

_Hunt. Kill. Tear._

The archer looked down, Tarven's sword driven deep into his stomach, before the former Commander twisted the blade, pulling it free in a welter of black blood. The archer collapsed to the ground, his last sight was of Tarven Duveaux raising the knotted blade above his head before the world turned to darkness.

_Hunt. Kill. Slay the Warden._

_

* * *

_

The morning light felt cold against his skin, as did the armour, stained with blood, dirt and sweat. His sword had been stuck into the ground, standing on its own, catching the red hazy light of the morning on the few unmarred spots on the blade. His body ached, his arms felt like lead, he wondered how he could still stand. They had battled through the night, hunting the general leading the Darkspawn in the city. By some miracle they had found it, near the farms outside the city walls. The Wardens had caught the fiend alone, and battled it. Like much of his world now, the battle had been a blur, faint flashes of steel and spells, shields deflecting arrows and blood and pain all mixed into the disturbing tapestry Aedan's life had become.

In the cold light of the new day, all that remained of the Hurlock general lay at Aedan's boots, and another reminder of what he was becoming. His hand feel to his side, rest on a small pouch containing a rosewood ring. Tempted as he was to take the ring out and wear it again, he knew he could not, as the doubt began to claw at his mind again.

"Aedan. Word has come in from the other districts. We've beaten back the Darkspawn." Nathaniel approached, his armour slick with Darkspawn blood, the leather torn in several places. He too looked exhausted, but jubilant. "Amaranthine is saved, thanks to you."

_Liar._

"Most of the war bands are being hunted as we speak. Not only that, but there seems to be a large force moving towards us. We can't be sure, but it looks like word has gotten through to Denerim, it might be a relief force."

Nodding, Aedan simply stared at the body at his feet. "There is something else, isn't there Nathaniel?"

"Yes." Howe sighed and looked westwards. "We know where the Darkspawn are coming from. To the west of here there is a region known as the Dragonbone Wastes. It appears to be the base of these Darkspawn. It could also be where this Mother resides."

The archer continued, and with each word he heard, Aedan was sure that Nathaniel should be leading the Grey Wardens, not he. "If we move quickly, we can have a force of soldiers there by nightfall."

_Oh yes, allow some more innocent people to die. Tell me, how stained are your hands? How much blood has washed over them, child?_

"No. Get Anders and Sigrun. The four of us will go ahead." Wrenching the blade free from the ground, Aedan set off down the path that led to the Dragonbone Wastes. "Whatever happens, Nathaniel, this ends."


	29. Chapter 29

_Chapter 29_

_"Feast"_

_*Sigh*, well I really have to apologise for the lack of updates. I won't bore you with the details, and I won't look for sympathy, but all I can do is apologise. Anyway, story time!_

* * *

_Fools. Couldn't even finish a dying dragon without getting themselves killed. Don't need them._

Each step screamed in agony, bone and muscle aching for release and surcease from the pain. The battle against the ancient beast above had drained Savine of much of her power and now alone and exhausted the Orlesian struggled through the cavernous ruins of the vast, crumbling ruins of the Tevinter tower.

_Don't need anyone._

With her followers dead or scattered by the dragon, Savine tried to summon the strength to heal her wounds, now oozing black fluid, further ruining the once pristine dress, a gift to her from Tarven. As the glowing beads of magic formed around her hands, something would break her concentration, a low, keening melody, as if sung from a distant shore.

_Why won't this singing stop? _

Snapping her head sharply to break the song's hold on her, Savine reached for the small satchel from her side, removing the last of her poultices. Squeezing the fluid from the sponge onto her wounds, the mage focused, on the pain, on what had happened, and what she would do to the Architect and his little Dwarven bitch. The prospect of inflicting vicious suffering on her former ally drew enough of a smile from the Elf to show her teeth, rotted and slowly replaced by small fangs.

_I will do this on my own. Make it complete its promise._

_Make it make me whole again._

So focused on her quarry that Savine failed to notice the crumbling staircase before her, and failed to notice the third step break away from the wall. She tumbled through the darkness, her staff snapping into two, a shard of the heartwood driving into the small of her back, pushed further into her flesh with each roll. At the base of the stairway, Savine's head crashed against the mosaicked floor, once a proud depiction of the Tevinter Magisters, now a faded reminder of the past, and the last thing Savine saw before she blacked out.

_Tarven…_

* * *

The sound of something beyond her world skittering roused the mage from the darkness. Her vision was bloody, every breath screamed in agony as though her lungs were filled with witchfire. Before her lay the remains of her staff, splintered and shattered, and yet the once mighty mage weapon still offered its pale glow, offering a brief light in the shadows. Ignoring the injuries to her arms, Savine grasped the staff, bracing herself as she tried to lift herself from the ground, only to fall again, the air knocked from her lungs.

_Why…why can I not feel my leg?_

Reaching around, the mage delicately searched for the injury, trying to summon the power to heal her wounds. As her fingers found the shard of heartwood lodged in her back, a shadow moved before her. Waving the staff before her, Savine croaked to her unseen assailant. "Whose there?" Waving the staff before her, she raised her voice louder, more authoritative as she drew on the memories of being a Grey Warden, "Show yourself, we command you!"

As if obeying, the shadow crept forward, staying just beyond the light of the staff. As her eyes adjusted, Savine could see the malformed face, teeth filled with razors, followed by a chitinous, segmented body, hissing all the while, stopping only to click into the cloying air.

Soon, a chorus of clicks filled the air, answering the first as soon, one of the creatures joined the first, followed by another, then a third and a fourth until she was surrounded by the chittering, skittering beasts, each face hate filled and hissing. And yet, as she looked around, Savine could not hear the dread music of the strange beasts as the only sound she could hear was that damnable song, getting louder with each passing second.

_What are these things? SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTP!_

Her anger flared and with it so too did the staff, a bright flash of light filling the room, the beasts hissing in fear as they scrambled back beyond the room.

"Away with you!"

_Heh. They won't attack me in the light. They…They can't get me here._

As joyous as she was, Savine knew she could not keep this façade up long. The beasts knew that she was injured; she knew that they were just biding their time. She needed to escape somehow, heal herself. Perhaps if she could drive them back with a spelling, just as the staff fell from her hand, as the blood from her injuries pooled slowly around her body.

_So tired. Can't, can't concentrate, song too loud. No. Must concentrate, must concentrate on the song, so soothing._

_Pretty song…_

The last thing Savine, an elf born in the slums of Val Royeaux, once a Grey Warden, mage and who at one stage could offer advice to Empress Celene, saw was the razor teeth of the Children as they leapt towards her dying body.

* * *

Anders shot a look down the tunnel, leaning forward against his staff before looking back at his companions. "...Did anyone hear that?"

"Hear what?" Nathaniel searched the shadows above them as the Dwarf, Sigrun scanned the walls around them. Neither was in the mood for the mage's games.

"I thought I heard someone scream from up ahead."

Staring at an alcove above them, Nathaniel nocked an arrow onto his bow before replying as he took aim. "Who else is down here Anders? We only found out that the Darkspawn were based here yesterday." The arrow was let loose and the screech of a Hurlock falling to the ground answered the attack, the arrow lodged in the Darkspawn's chest.

The Mage spun around, look disdainfully at Howe's target. "And that's just it. How do you explain what we saw on our way here? Dozens of dead Darkspawn in the boneyard. That High Dragon didn't die by itself, you know, its wounds were magical. And now we aren't meeting any resistance, but we're still coming across the remains of dead Darkspawn, and they've been killed by magic." Pointing to the dead Hurlock at Nathaniel's feet, Anders looked at his fellow Wardens. "Face it, we aren't alone here."

"Fine, Anders, I'll give you that." Reaching for another arrow, Nathaniel walked to beside Aedan, the Warden Commander studying the walls of the chamber. "Still, we should be cautious; we don't know what else could be here."

As the two Wardens looked into the darkness, Sigrun shuffled beside Anders, her twin daggers drawn, the usually perky Dwarf nervous. "How do you think Oghren and Velanna are doing against the Darkspawn at the Vigil?"

Stopping briefly, Anders rested his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder, summoning the most sincere smile he could, and realised it was lost in the shadows. Sighing, the mage admitted defeat to himself. "I… I don't know Sigrun. I just hope the walls hold."

The Wardens walked into a vast chamber, a stairway leading to yet another of the large crystals they had come across before. Below were yet more of the Children, devouring some poor creature. So intent were they on their feast, none escaped the shards of ice Anders summoned, killing the creatures instantly.

Making their way down the staircase, the Wardens kept watch for anymore of the Children or their Darkspawn brethren, until Aedan noticed something amidst the bodies of the Children. A broken stave of purest heartwood, the wood lacquered white, beads of ice dotting the once proud staff, and a flash of the past echoed in his mind. Of Denerim and someone he met once.

_I…I've seen this before somewhere….No. It doesn't matter…_

And again he felt his skin crawl and with the feeling he knew a powerful Darkspawn was nearby, his suspicions confirmed by the wheezing voice above them.

The Architect had arrived.

"And so we meet again." The Darkspawn floated into view, hovering above the Wardens and the crystal. His follower, the Dwarf stood with him, shield and sword drawn and ready for blood. The Architect raised his hand, the gesture calming the Dwarf. "No Utha. That is not how this must begin."

"It would seem that I owe you an apology Commander. When last we met, I had intended to explain myself, fate, however, intervened."

"We escaped you mean, Darkspawn?" Aedan's hand reached for his sword, as Nathaniel raised his bow at the Architect. Anders began to mutter a spell to himself as Sigrun gripped the handle of her daggers.

Lowering itself to the Wardens, the Architect sighed. "I only restrained you to prevent any furtherance of the misunderstanding that occurred between myself and the rest of your Order. I had sent the Withered to gain your Order's gain." Pausing just above the ground, the Darkspawn continued "I should have anticipated that your followers might view his approach as an attack. I am rarely able to judge how **your** kind might react. It was… unfortunate."

Aedan was about to speak when Anders cut ahead of him, the mage's voice filled with anger as both men remembered the attack on Vigil's Keep. "Unfortunate? Your Darkspawn captured the Wardens and bled them dry!"

"The Wardens that were brought to me were already dead." The Architect began to pace back and forth, keeping the crystal between itself and the Wardens. "I took their blood as I took yours because I had little choice…Things have not gone as I had planned."

Pausing, the Darkspawn brought a hand to its brow, wheezing to itself as it thought of its next move. "Warden, I only ask that you hear me out. Should you still wish to slay me afterwards…you may try."

"Why do you think we should listen to you?" Each moment they stayed here angered Aedan, and each moment they spoke gave the young man more time to think about what had happened these past few days, these past few months. The thought of it raised his ire more and more.

Pacing again, the Architect tried to explain to the Wardens it's plan. "My kind has ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods. This is our nature, and when we find one, a Blight is begun. Each we rise and attack your surface lands and each time you battle against us, driving us back to the Deep Roads. And thus far, your kind has won each time, but at great cost, is that not right?"

"I merely seek to end this cycle."

"So why would you wish to stop the Blights?" Nathaniel peered at the Darkspawn, wary of the almost sincere desire.

"I wish for my brethren to be free of this mindless crusade, I wish for them to make their own choice, as **your** kind does. For good or for ill, I wish this for them."

The Architect paused again before it moved towards the Wardens, a soft sheen the only mark of a spell protecting it. "All I need for this is the blood of Grey Wardens."

Aedan raised his sword, pointing the tip of the blade at the Darkspawn's throat. "So you've said, but tell me, why do you need our blood? Hurry fiend, I do not have nearly enough time to stand here prattling with the likes of you."

Nathaniel lowered the bow slightly, concern in his eyes, hoping that this would not be a rash decision. "Commander…"

Nodding, the Architect, looked back at Utha. "Very well Commander." Beckoning the Dwarf to its side, it continued. "Just as your own Joining ritual uses the blood of Darkspawn, and the blood of an Archdemon to turn your kind into Grey Wardens, so too can I use the blood of the Grey Wardens in a similar manner amongst my brethren to…"

"To create the Disciples. That's it, isn't it? The Disciples are Darkspawn who have undergone your ritual." It was Anders.

"Indeed. In doing so I had hoped to free them from the Call. Unfortunately the results of my earlier work were less than successful."

Aedan growled, as he finally realised who was behind all the attacks in Amaranthine. "You mean this "Mother" that the First spoke of."

"The First? Yes, you are correct." Crossing it's arms across it's chest, the Architect heaved slightly as it began the tale of the Mother. "The Mother was the first I freed from the Call. But I miscalculated and underestimated what would happen. I indeed, did free her from the song of the Old Gods, but I failed to realise what would happen afterwards. Her mind was shattered by the process and what had happened to her body."

"I had thought her to be my greatest success, but now I see that she wishes to undo my work, and to end it all."

The Architect finally stopped and raised its arms at Aedan, had it been any other race than a Darkspawn, it might have almost been pleading with him. "Warden Commander, I have told you why I am here, and what I wish to do. I seek to end the Mother's madness. You have ended her Disciples. But now I ask you, will you and the Grey Wardens ally yourselves with me to end the Blights?"

"Commander! You cannot seriously be entertaining this insanity? All these people who have been killed because of that thing! What about them?" Sigrun was spitting fury at the offer, the sound of leather creaking as she gripped the daggers.

It was Nathaniel who spoke next, the archer confused by the events, but as ever his was the practical side. "Commander… Aedan. I know we must battle the Darkspawn but, we could end the Blights forever. How many more lives could be saved by this decision? Or how many would be lost if we refuse it?"

"Warden, listen to your comrade." The Architect offered another chance as Utha unsheathed her sword and made her way to the creature. "This will save as much your people as it will mine."

"I'm with Sigrun, Commander. We can't let this Darkspawn do this. This is no better than making a pact with a Pride demon. It will only end in disaster…." Anders lifted the staff, lightning crackling the tip of the mage weapon.

Both parties stood silently as Nathaniel raised his bow again, the arrow pulled back on the string.

It was Aedan who broke the silence.

"Architect. What of those who have died? What of them?"

Sighing once more the Architect thought for a moment, shaking its head before finally answering. "They were unfortunate, but in the end, they are gone, and of no concern to us."

Closing his eyes, Aedan nodded and lowered the sword, before charging the Darkspawn. "Then I have my answer!"

* * *

The courtyard of the Keep was utter chaos, as fires were extinguished, gaps in the wall were manned and the injured and dead with gathered from the grounds. As one group moved in one direction tending to the wounded, another led by Chantry priests brought the dead to the pyres. In another direction still the broken corpses of the Darkspawn were thrown into a pit, ready to be burned. Amidst the chaos, two figures stood resolute as Fergus Cousland directed his soldiers to where they were needed. The Mabari hound, Beast, his brother's hound, stood by his side, panting in the rising heat of the day. "Ser Derrin, take a detachment of archers, man the walls. I don't want any surprises from those bastards."

"Yes, Your Grace." The knight nodded and called to his soldiers. "All right you maggots, you heard the Teryn, move it!"

Fergus waved another knight over, rolling a scroll and tying it he approached. "Ser Merric, send a rider to King Alistair at Amaranthine. Tell him we are securing Vigil's Keep. Then find out what is keeping those Circle Mages. We need their aid with the injured."

"Aye, my Lord."

As the knight left, Fergus looked around, searching for any of the Amaranthine soldiers who might help him. Spotting one small group, the Teyrn strode to them, Beast following him. The soldiers were blooded, dirty and exhausted. "Who is the officer in charge here?"

One stood, his hair streaked with blood, turning black in the morning sun. His arm was in a sling, the armour removed, showing several gashed along the length of the arm. "That would be me, Teyrn Cousland. My name is Captain Garavel."

The captain attempted to kneel before Fergus stopped him. "There is no need for that captain, please, rest." As a soldier passed, Fergus called to her. "You, soldier, get this man some water."

"Yes, Teyrn Cousland."

Helping Garavel back to the ground, Fergus spoke. "Tell me what happened, Captain."

Nodding, the soldier began. "They attacked three days ago, as the Warden Commander moved towards Amaranthine. We had to make a choice between the city and the Vigil… Tell me my Lord. Does Amaranthine still stand?"

"It is, King Alistair's forces should have secured it by now, but what choice are you talking about?"

Smiling, Garavel continued. "I told your brother that Amaranthine was lost, that we should burn the city to the ground and concentrate on the Vigil." Shaking his head, Garavel looked up at the Teyrn. "Your brother refused, and sent me back with the soldiers. He said he would take care of the Darkspawn in the city."

"The last I saw him, he was leading the other Grey Wardens into the city."

"And Aedan charges into the fray, damning the odds all the while. It would seem that the more things change, the more they stay the same." The new voice came from behind, Fergus turning to see an elf clad in black leather armour. _So the assassin finally arrived._

Cursing to himself, Fergus extended his hand to the Antivan, welcoming him to the Keep. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with you Zevran."

The Elf smiled as he searched his pocket. "Oh do not worry my Teyrn. I am sure your brother had those Darkspawn wishing they had stayed in whatever little hole they crawled from." Stopping, he looked at the soldiers, grinning. "He does that to a lot of the people he comes across."

"I hope so. I hope so." Fergus sighed, leading Zevran away from the soldiers. "So if you're here, I take it Alistair is on his way?"

"Indeed, he will be by nightfall. And before you ask. Early reports from the city constable, a delightful man sharing your brother's name and if I might say quite…"

"Zevran! The report!" The Teyrn snapped. Immediately remorseful, Fergus raised his hands. "Zevran, I'm sorry."

The Elf smiled. "Think nothing of it. I forget myself sometimes. Anyway, many of the city's inhabitants are safe. Aedan and the city guard managed to give them enough time to escape to beyond the walls. The general leading them is dead. Burned to death it would seem. Early reports were confirmed about the Arlessa's death. It seemed that she committed suicide rather than lead her city. That or an old friend of mine was about expose some of her darkest secrets."

Fergus shook his head as he knelt beside Beast, scratching the hound's ears. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"Probably not… Now, onto more important matters, like where is Ogh…."

Ser Merric interrupted them, the knight panting as he approached. "My apologises, your Grace, but I saw them on the road ahead. Your Grace, the Warden Commander returns!"


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"Pain"

**Two Weeks Ago…**

…_next thing we knew the wall collapsed…_

…_Hurlock just came out of nowhere and killed him…_

…_She must have been crushed…_

…_trying to dig her out…_

… _fought two Ogres by himself, gave the soldiers time to…_

…_sent for Felsi…_

…_might not recover…_

…_You did it again, little brother…_

The information came in a deluge; each piece of news was soon lost amidst a sea of reports, congratulations and the chaos in the Vigil. Everything he was told seemed insignificant to where he was. Much of the Vigil had been damaged during the siege, the Dwarf Dworkin estimating it would take three years for the Keep to be restored to its former glory.

Not that it stuck with Aedan as he sat in the corner of the guard barrack in a simple tunic and breeches, watching the small bandaged form breathe laboriously, each rise of the chest pause before falling. As full of life as the Dwarf had been during their time travelling, Oghren looked so small, lifeless. And with fall of Oghren's chest, Aedan felt his gorge rise.

He had heard the reports; Oghren and Seneschal Varel had ordered the soldiers on the walls to fall back to the Keep, Oghren staying behind as a rear guard in the main courtyard. Two Ogres had attacked him before he could fall back. Despite the odds, the Dwarf had come out on top, but had to be dragged to the Keep due to his injuries.

And here they were four days later, Aedan having scarcely leaving the Dwarf's side as Alistair and Fergus saw to the defence of Amaranthine. The last packs of Darkspawn were being hunted down, their corpses burnt as the Grey Wardens tried to assess the damage done, the plumes of bilious smoke dotted the night sky a testimony to the work being done during the night.

And alone in the shadows, Aedan was again left with his thoughts.

_You've done it again, little brother._

_You've done it again…_

_Just like you've always done._

_And look what's happened._

_Look at what happens when you try to play hero._

The grasp of a hand on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts as the familiar voice cut through the darkness. "She should be here by the morning."

Nathaniel Howe stood behind the Warden Commander, his arm still bandaged from the battles with the Architect and the Mother. "Aedan… I said that"

"Who?" He could hear himself speak, his voice so tired. And he didn't care anymore.

Pulling up a chair, Nathaniel sat next to Aedan, watching over Oghren, still talking. "Felsi, King Alistair sent for her, she should be here by the morning."

"Why?" His voice so exhausted.

Nathaniel looked at his friend, incredulous for a moment. "Why? What do you mean why? It's for Oghren, he's dying."

"No." His voice, so devoid of emotion.

"Aedan! He's right there. You can see it for yourself! You know he doesn't have much time left." Howe shifted his weight, gripping Aedan's shoulder and pointing at Oghren, anger mixed with confusion as he tried to explain to Aedan what was happening.

"No, why is it that I'm the one who always survives, Nathaniel?" Aedan's voice, so devoid of hope.

"What?" Nathaniel's grip slackened as Aedan spoke, shocked at the question.

The Warden rose from his seat, and walked to the window. "No matter where I am, the people I get close to suffer, while I continue to survive." Resting his hands on the stonework, Aedan looked out over the courtyard, watching the soldiers below clearing rubble. "Nevarra, friends and I went through such horrific trials, they fell, but I get praised, knighted and I return home."

His hands tensed into balled fists before slamming against the stone. Turning Aedan pointed to Nathaniel, his face flush with anger. "Your father slaughters my family and I escape and become a Grey Warden…"

By now Nathaniel had risen and faced Aedan, keeping the wooden chairs between them. "Aedan, without you, Ferelden would have been lost to the Darkspawn."

Anger flashed in Aedan's eyes as he heard the comment. "Me? What in blasted damnation did I do? What did I do that someone else couldn't have done?" He spun again, punching the wall, and left small trails of blood on the wall. "You honestly think I'm special? Damn you Howe!" The Warden throw his arm to the window, his hand spanning the distant horizon. "I did nothing that anyone else could have done! Duncan could have done to Denerim and found an elf in the Alienage, and they would have done more than I could have. He could have gone to the Circle and chosen an apprentice, and they probably would have had more success than me!"

"You don't believe that Aedan." Nathaniel shook his head, amazed at the sudden change in Aedan and watched as the Commander walked across the chamber to the wash basin.

As he washed his hand, and began to bandage the torn skin, Aedan looked back at his fellow Grey Warden. "Oh don't I? I _never _wanted to be a Grey Warden. I wanted to settle down, marry and raise a family. I wanted to help my father and Fergus run Highever. And I've lost all that, thanks to your father!"

And as angry as he had seemed, Aedan's fists relaxed, the hands falling by his sides. And back was the man who sounded so hollow, so tired. "You think that being a Grey Warden is an honour? It's a death sentence. You went through the Joining; you know what it was like to drink that blood. You either drink from the chalice, or you die. It happened at my Joining. Daveth drank from that chalice and died. Jory was terrified, but Duncan just executed him. He had a wife, a child."

"There is a reason why the Joining is a secret Aedan, I sure Duncan kne…."

"HE WAS A MURDERER!" The water jug shattered as Aedan's hand punched through the earthenware. Shards fell to the ground as Nathaniel took a step back from the rage, his hand reaching for the dagger in his belt.

Falling to the floor, Aedan rested his head on his knees, looking at the broken fragments before him. "No child should have to grow up without a father, and that's what Duncan took away from Jory's child!" His stare drew to the supine form in the cot on the other side of the chamber. "And now Oghren…"

Nathaniel sighed, slipping the dagger back into it's sheathe as he strode across the chamber, offering his hand to Aedan. "Oghren knew what he was doing when he joined the Grey Wardens, you and I know well enough there was no way you could dissuade him."

Glancing up, Aedan took the proffered hand, Nathaniel hefting him up. "I could have refused him. Sent him back to Felsi. He was my friend and I've murdered him."

The pair left the chamber, as Nathaniel tried to lead Aedan down the winding corridors of the Keep. It was becoming clear to him that Aedan and his mind hung on a thread, as it finally dawned on him that everything had taken its toll on the Commander. "Do you truly feel that way about the Grey Wardens? Even after everything you have done? What of Anders? He would have been executed if you didn't conscript him. Or Sigrun? She would have been left alone to die at Kal'Hirol, or worse."

For a moment, Aedan didn't answer, Nathaniel wondering if he should repeat himself, before Aedan responded. "Or worse… There are fates worse than death, Howe. You of all people should know that, or have you already forgotten why you came to the Keep?"

The question gave the archer pause, as he nodded. "I remember, but I also remember that you gave me a chance, a choice about my future."

"What future? When I conscripted you, I had hoped you'd die in the Joining, another Howe gone from this world."

He turned, and looked Aedan in the eye, acknowledging the claim. "I thought as much. And yet outside of Kal'Hirol you saved me from the Children. That was your choice Aedan."

Aedan backed away, and moved towards the nearest door, throwing open the entrance to the armoury, the flashes of anger returning. "What choice? I have never had a choice during this whole fiasco! Duncan conscripted me! Forced me to undergo the Joining! After Ostagar what choice did I have in fighting the Blight?"

Inside the armoury, Aedan began to walk towards the suits of silverite armour Herrin had crafted over the past few months. As always the workmanship had been exquisite, mabari hounds engraved into the armour which itself felt incredibly light, but each set had proven itself quite durable during the siege. Tracing his fingers against one particular suit of armour, Aedan examined the damage done, several brutal gouges had been torn into the metal, yet he knew that the soldier who had worn it had survived.

Resting his forehead against the armour he sighed. "The choices that I could make, what good have they done? There is a tyrant on the throne in Orzammar. The mages will never be truly free. I put a man I consider a brother on the throne, and I've possibly ruined his life by forcing him into a life he never wanted! You think I wanted the love…"

He lightly rapped his head against the armour before trying again, his voice choked with pain as he spoke. "You think I wanted the love of my life to leave me after the battle of Denerim?"

Nathaniel watched as his friend continued, unable to make himself interrupt Aedan as the Warden unburdened himself.

"Every choice I make sees the people I care for suffering. Fergus might be the last Cousland to rule Highever. I know I've made Alistair miserable by taking him from the one life he loved. I know that Zevran is on the run for the rest of his life. Oghren is dying." Without stopping, Aedan scooped the matching helm from the armour and began to examine it, turning the smooth metal over in his hands. "You remember that elf girl from Highever? The one I was friends with, Mera Surana? A few months after I return home, I stopped Arl Urien's son from having his way with her, so he sent the Templars, claimed she was an apostate. Turns out he was right. She was a mage. The Templars killed her grandfather and she went on the run. That was the last I saw of her."

Silence hung in the air as Nathaniel thought of what to say, Aedan still working the helm over. "So why are you still here Aedan? You have done more with your life in a few short years than most can ever hope to dream of doing. You avenged your family. You fight off the Antivan Crows and made them afraid. You stopped a would-be rapist and saved a young woman's life. You stopped the Blight and the Darkspawn."

Strolling across the armour to the bows, Nathaniel began to test each string, checking the draw of each bow. "We each knew the consequences of agreeing to join the Wardens. Oghren is a warrior; he knew there would be risks, as did each one of us, but it was our choice to stay or leave. Aedan, you are one of the most honourable men I have ever met. You could have left at any time, turned your back on Ferelden and gotten yourself to safety; you could have even built a small kingdom for yourself by now. But you stayed, and you fought and you struggled. You think you have brought suffering to people? There was pain and loss in this world long before you were born. Everything you have done have prevented others from feeling that pain, so why must you continue to blame yourself?"

"Because I know I should be dead."

"The same could have been said for everyone in Ferelden were it not for you and Alistair." He lifted one bow as he spoke, the crest of the Howe family burned into the wood, weighing it in his hand as he waited for Aedan to answer.

When it finally came, it chilled Howe to his core.

"This is different." Aedan had replaced the helmet and had now taken his swords from their resting place, checking the sheathes of the blades. "When I killed the Archdemon, I felt its soul leave its body, and I felt…something else. It was as if something clawed at **my** soul, gripping it, trying to drag it from **my** body. And then nothing, as if that claw suddenly let go. Do you know what that is like? To have you soul about to be torn from you?"

"I'm sorry Aedan…I didn't know."

With his back to Aedan, Nathaniel never noticed Aedan creep behind him, and striking Howe with the pommel of the blade. Even before he fell, Aedan grabbed his fellow Warden and lowered him to the ground and bound the unconscious Warden's hands together. "And I'm sorry too, Nathaniel. But there was something else, something that I couldn't tell anyone. I could feel something being left behind by the Archdemon. Everyday I felt it grow, fester, and I know it will kill me in the end. I can't… I won't let it hurt anyone else."

Making sure that Nathaniel was alright, Aedan began to gather his equipment, pulling a chainmail hauberk over his head. "You were wrong though, my friend. I'm not an honourable man. But I can end this suffering honourably."

Tightening the strap of the armour, Aedan looked back at the prone figure before he slid into the shadows of the Keep. "Goodbye Nate. You are the better man than I."

* * *

As a child, her mother had taught of the spirits that inhabited the Fade. Of the way the so-called demons sought to experience mortal life, of those spirits who spurned their brethren and their base desires. She had learned to barter with various spirits, but to never accept any gift from them.

As a child, Flemeth had told her of the different spells that could affect the Fade and its inhabitants. There were even spells that the Elves know to influence the dreams of those who slept, though those spells were long lost. As powerful as Flemeth was, even she admitted that to attempt such a spell now would be too dangerous.

As a child, Morrigan learned that nothing in this world was free, that everything had a price. As time passed and as she studied her mother's grimoire, the Witch began to realise that fact still held true. She had thought Aedan battling her mother would have been enough to grant her a temporary respite from Flemeth's machinations.

Now, she found herself pouring over a section of the tome that she had finished deciphering, studying it intensely, learning of an ancient tradition that had existed amongst the old tribes and clans, when Man worshipped the dragons of the world. Honoured warriors would be taken to the liar of one such beast, where the shaman of the tribe would make a small incision in a slumbering High Dragon and prepare a potion for the warriors to drink. These warriors would become imbued with the power of these dragons, fighting their enemies with the ferocity of demons and devouring the life from the broken bodies of the dead.

Yet there was a price for these Reavers, the closest Morrigan could translate the word. The blood of the High Dragon would bind these warriors to her. As a result the warriors would have to constantly battle the urgings of the dragon and struggled to keep the beast inside under control unless it would destroy them. Many chose to end their lives in battle rather than become a slave to that beast. Unfortunately though, some would be consumed, returning to the liar and offering themselves to the Dragons that dwelt inside, returning that which they had taken.

Closing the grimoire, the truth had dawned upon Morrigan about what had happened to Aedan. After the battle with Flemeth he had admitted that he had accidently drank some of her blood as he landed the killing blow. Neither had thought anything of it, save for the Warden making a ridiculous jest of it being slightly worse than when he underwent the Joining.

_Fool! How could I have missed this? I…I do not know if I can do anything about this. Not by myself._

Pulling the grimoire towards her again, Morrigan began to search for answers, and for a way to solve this problem, stopping as the small bundle beside her began to stir. Picking the baby up from its cot, Morrigan began to soothe the new born. She knew the labour had exhausted herself, that she needed time to recover. And as she looked at her son, Morrigan knew that time was short.

_Is there even anything left of your father to save?_

* * *

**Present…**

_So tired. Can't stop yet. Almost there._

The road before him disappeared beneath the undergrowth as the dishevelled figure made its way to Orzammar through the boreal forest of the Frostback Mountains. Dirt and mud clung to his armour weighing him down, a heavy linen cloak all but ruined by travel and the elements now offered little protection. None of it mattered though, not anymore. For the past three weeks Aedan had travelled the coastal roads of Ferelden, purposely avoiding others as they came towards him. Sleeping little, the Warden only rested when his body screamed no more, collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

Already he could see the narrow pathway leading to the entrance of the Dwarven city. With luck he'd be there by the morning. If he didn't collapse first of course.

Part of him wondered what the Dwarves would make of him as they saw him approach. Would they welcome the one who changed their city so much with open arms? Or would they treat the ragged, dirt streaked man as a beggar and send him on his way. Not that it mattered of course.

_Maybe one of them would want to practise his crossbow skills. That could be a good way to go. The "Hero of Ferelden", killed by a Dwarven bolt. Certainly quick enough._

Crossing a particularly knotted vine, Aedan lost his footing and stumbled onto the forest floor. He almost began to laugh before he realised he hadn't tripped, as his left shoulder screamed in agony. Reaching back he felt the quarrel of a crossbow lodged in his shoulder.

Before he could react to the injury, rough hands grabbed his arms and legs, and the quarrel ripped from his shoulder. The pain tore the breath from his lungs, leaving him unable to scream. The pain threatened to send him into shock, his body trying to render him unconscious when a calloused hand gripped his through, and through the haze of suffering Aedan heard what sounded like slurred Orlesian accents, with one in particular rising above the others.

As he began to black out from the pain, Aedan could the leader talk.

"We have need of some words with you, Warden."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

**"Calling"**

Candles dotted the centre of the small room, casting brief, shifting shadows against the walls, as Morrigan knelt in the centre of the room, tracing a chalk circle, connecting all the candles in an arcane pattern. As she completed the circle, Morrigan thought of what her mother had taught her about this ritual, one of the first lessons Flemeth had given about the Fade. Growing up in the Korcari Wilds had offered little in the way of Lyrium, and so other ways of passing through the Veil had to be used. Some were subtle, offering the subject to slip through the Veil for a short time before the mind was drawn back to the body , that and the collection of the necessary herbs and ingredients made it a difficult ritual to prepare for, and useless in most circumstances. Other spells were more… robust, _a fine way of describing it_… by using the blood of a volunteer, one could tear through into the Fade, at the cost of the volunteer's life.

Necessity had forced Morrigan to use the former option; the previous weeks spent gathering marsh reeds, corpse flower and the other ingredients. The herbs were being burnt on the fire behind her and more importantly, her child rested in the next room, safe from the fumes and from her.

As she thought of the child, Morrigan began to think of that last night in Redcliffe, and of the choice she had given Aedan, his life, or to have a child with her, if he refused, she would leave immediately, if he accepted she would leave after the Archdemon was dead. She could remember expecting him to be furious, especially when she explained that was the sole reason Flemeth had sent her with Aedan and Alistair, instead the Warden had just stood by the fireplace, and asked her about what the child would be, his head tilted towards her, the light of the fire giving his face an eerie glow. As she expected the Witch could see that each answer tore into him, as it had done to her.

She could remember when he had replied, Morrigan had been sitting on the edge of the chamber's bed, and Aedan's back turned towards her. His hands gripped the mantle of the fireplace, as if steadying himself, the room silent save for the soft crackling of the fire. And then there it was, one small question, four little words that cut deeper than any wound, any comment had done before.

"Did you love me?"

Morrigan could still feel the sting of those words and with them all the confusion she could feel when with him. "I…What has happened between us… it has made me more determined to see this through, to save you."

There it was again. Those four blasted words.

"Did you love me?"

The question hung in the air for a moment as Morrigan tried to deny it, or to find the right words, and not for the first time around him, the Witch found herself speechless, bar for one word.

"Yes."

With that, Aedan had moved away from the fire, kneeling before Morrigan, taking her hands into his and brought them to his lips, kissing them. Lifting his head to her, Morrigan could see Aedan's eyes held back the pain of losing her, but smiled instead. "That is all I needed to know."

"Come my love, we shall make this last night together something to remember…"

_My love…_

_How could this have happened to you? Was I that focused on what my mother had planned that I could not foresee what might happen to you? Is it my fault that you suffer now? I… I can not do this by myself, I know I need help, and there is only one person I know of who might be able to offer that aid._

Kneeling in the circle, Morrigan opened her mother's grimoire and turned to the marked page, the ancient pages of the leather bound book falling softly as she let go. Finally reaching the page, Morrigan began to chant the words of the spell, breathing in the acrid scent of the herbs as they burned and closed her eyes.

* * *

"Still having difficulty, Beast?" Fergus watched as the hound before him tried to track Aedan's scent for the fourth time in less than an hour, helped in no way by a spate of spring showers. The Teyrn almost smiled at the thought. _Whatever anyone could say about him, Aedan certainly knows how to lose those looking for him._ The hound paused and looked back at Fergus, letting loose a low plaintive whine. Kneeling beside Beast, Fergus stroked the Mabari's ears. The last few months with the hound had been a comfort, but both knew where Beast truly belonged. "I know boy, I worry for him too. But we'll find him. Come on."

_I pray we find him. Why in Andraste's name did we decide to just send the three of us and Beast out here? I know if Alistair could have he would have sent the entire Ferelden army to search for Aedan. And then we would have left Amaranthine unguarded and have caused panic in every town between here and the border with fears of another Darkspawn army. I just want to know Aedan is safe. I just want him to be alright._

"Oh please don't tell me the hound is lost again." Anders stumbled through the bushes, his robes streaked with dirt and the broken branches.

_For someone who kept escaping the Circle of Magi, this mage has no field craft whatsoever. Maker help me, how did he keep getting away from the Templars? Or are they that terrible at looking after their charges?_

The look shot from Fergus warned Anders that the Teyrn was in no mood for humour, and instantly Anders calmed down, content to brush away the dirt from his robes, mumbling to himself.

_I can't blame him. Maker, we've been following these tracks for nearly three weeks. Why would you do this little brother? Why couldn't you come to me? You didn't need to do…whatever this is, by yourself._

"Teyrn Cousland, I…" Nathaniel Howe walked forward, his forehead still healing from when Aedan knocked him out at the Keep. Despite the fact that he was a Grey Warden, Fergus still felt a seething hatred towards the man, both had barely spoken in the past few weeks. Now, as they drew closer to the Frostback Mountains, Fergus began to feel sick to his stomach, remembering what Alistair had told him, of a Warden's last journey into the Deep Roads. _No. I won't let him. I don't care if I have to order him to come with me, I won't lose my brother. Not because of another Howe!_

"You say anything else Howe, I will have your head." The Teyrn rose, the dew of the morning causing his armour to glisten softly, almost granting him a serene look, if it did not contrast the sheer rage etched into his face. "If anything happens to Aedan, so help me I will make your last days as painful and excruciating as possible."

Both men stared at each other, each unwilling to back down, Fergus, his hand resting on the hilt of the Cousland family blade, Nathaniel, his grandfather's bow gripped with the quiver of arrows within easy reach. Anders stood away from the pair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips before stepping between them. "…Well, as thrilling as it is to see the daggers the two of you are staring at each other, I have to say that this isn't Nathaniel's fault. Whatever happened to the Commander must have begun before he came to Amaranthine. That isn't important though, what is important is finding out where he is now. And I think the hound has something."

Beast sped off into the woods, the three men struggling to keep pace as the hound leapt over tree root and under branches. Soon the Mabari stopped in the middle of a clearing, mud churned up, the hound sniffing the air and ground, growling whenever he came across a new scent. As Fergus, Nathaniel and Anders approached, each began to search for some clue as to what happened here, Fergus searched the trees and leaves while the Wardens looked at the footprints in the mud.

"You're the better tracker here Nathaniel, have you found anything?" The mage peered at the dirt and sneered, unable to make neither head nor tail of the seeming chaos before him.

Studying the prints, Nathaniel removed a dagger from his belt and began to point at various points of the clearing. "There was a struggle here. From what I can tell, Aedan fell before two people in heavy armour came here, and lifted Aedan. A third stood behind and did something. I think a fourth may have been here, I don't know, the tracks have been ruined by the rain. They dragged him from here, meaning he might be injured, but I do not know how badly."

Puzzled at how anyone could tell anything from the footprints, Anders scratched his head and shrugged. "I don't suppose you can tell which direction they travelled?"

Standing to his feet, Nathaniel took one last look at the footprints before raising the dagger, pointing the way. "West, past the Frostbacks, I think towards the border."

_Maker. Hold on, Aedan. I'm coming, little brother._

* * *

Her eyes opened to a world she had always tried to avoid. As a mage, Morrigan knew that she could travel to the Fade, one of the few who could travel this world beyond her dreams. It was also a realm that terrified her, as she knew that those that dwelt here craved to experience mortal life and who else to use to experience that life than a mage and all that power granted by that life. For her own sake, Morrigan knew that her time here must be for the briefest moment.

Raising herself from the ground, Morrigan examined the area around her, an island floating amidst the aether of the Fade, with the Black City the sole constant fixture far beyond her on the horizon. The island itself did not seem strange, a courtyard surrounded by marble pillars. Nor did the shifting patterns of the pillar change with each thought as what was the Fade if not a world shaped by the dreams of the races of Man and Elf.

Even if matters were so not urgent, she knew she could not stay long. Her purpose was to seek aid for Aedan, this was her sole opportunity, and she could not, would not, waste it. Concentrating on those best suited for this, Morrigan stood alone in the courtyard, beckoning the spirits that dwelt here.

Almost immediately several motes of light approached the Witch, before swiftly dancing around her in excitement and exhilaration. One by one the motes began to coalesce into two perfect spheres of light, the orb swaying from side to side. Although she could hear no words, Morrigan know what the wisps were saying, and despite where she was Morrigan felt a peace with these spirits similar to what she once felt with Aedan.

"Yes. I know this is no place for those such as I, but that is not what is important right now."

The wisps continued to sway, again speaking to the young woman.

"I am here because I need your aid. There is someone I… care for deeply, but I can not help him. Not by myself."

One of the wisps sank to Morrigan's feet, slowly rising circling her as the other continued to ask its wordless questions.

"You know who I speak of, spirit, and do not ask me if I love him… I… my being here should tell you of what he meant to me."

The wisp shot up to Morrigan's face, an almost insistent humming emanating from the light.

"….Yes. I do love him. Are you satisfied, spirit? Or would you like to know how it tore my heart out to leave him behind? To have his child and know that they will never meet each other? I thought myself a fool to have fallen in love with him, but knowing what he is suffering is because of me, hurts more than any wound. Are you satisfied now, spirit?"

Before she had finished, she could feel a light envelop her, comforting her and apologising for the pain they had caused.

She immediately found herself back in the small room of the cottage, the candles almost extinguished, the lingering scent of the herbs still clung softly in the air. Sitting alone, Morrigan hoped she had done enough.

* * *

"Like you once. Elf. In light, not dark." In the haze, Aedan could hear the familiar Orlesian accent continue to speak as someone tended to his wounds. The months of battling in Amaranthine had taken their toll, and without the proper rest he should have had, the injuries he had acquired had not fully healed. So strange it seemed then that this mage had taken the time properly heal these wounds. _No weapons, no armour save my boots and greaves and I've a strange elf patching my wounds..._

"Not always a monster. Once, stood against the dark. Travel old roads. Fought the other kind. Fire and storm light." Yes, the accent was Orlesian, Jader possibly, but it was still slurred, as if the mage had always had difficulty speaking.

Rolling to his side, his hands bound behind him, Aedan looked up and gasped. "Why?"

Immediately the elf brought a flask to the young man's lips, tipping to contents into Aedan's mouth. "Elf once. Then darkness hurt. Not elf anymore."

Taking a chance, Aedan studied the elf briefly. His face was hidden under a heavy magister's hood, showing only the edge of his jaws, and they looked malformed. His robes had become no more than rages, the edges of the cloth singed by fire, the flesh beneath scarred and pock marked. The thick, dark bruises that covered the few uninjured areas seemed strangely familiar, as if he had seen them before. Then it hit him as the mage pulled the needle through his skin. He had seen the bruises before, in the Deep Roads, in Ortan Thaig. The dwarf Ruck, had been infected with the Taint, and had been driven mad by it. _Is that it? No…they're Wardens…they couldn't be ghouls…Not if…_

An iron shod boot to his stomach stopped Aedan from completing the realisation, and forced him to double over in pain. The same Orlesian accent he heard when he had been captured spoke, and with it he could hear the same disdain as he had done near the Frostbacks. This one had a face like a knife, leather armour and a stench of mud, blood and waste. "Cretin… We told you to heal the wound, make sure it doesn't to get infected. We don't want to waste the blood!"

The elf was immediately apologetic, leaping to its feet and backing away from the other ghoul and Aedan. "Hurt closed. No more blood."

"Bloody knife ear." A backhand to the elf's face knocked him to the ground, before his captor turned his attention back to Aedan, kicking him again as he knelt down and grabbed his throat. "And you, you Ferelden dog bastard. Be glad that Tarven wants you alive, if I had my way, I'd have slit your throat from ear to ear. To me, your kind and the elf here, are somewhere between the shit this country seems to be covered with that that foam that forms on the corner of your mouth on a hot day."

Throwing Aedan back to the ground, the ghoul sneered and spat as he realised he had opened the bolt wound again. "Damn it! Elf, heal it again, and this time do a better job." Turning to the other two, a large, heavy set man in chainmail armour barely able to contain his frame and the crossbowman, a lithe, skinny mess in studded armour. The Knife made some deft motions of his hands towards the chain mailed warrior. "Gaston, pack it up; we're to be at the town before Tarven gets there. We have three days. Phileon, with me, we'll scout ahead."

All the while the elf had gone back to its works, nodding and rocking back and forth. "Will heal, will heal. Sorry. Must do this again."

"Why do you let him do that?"

"It right. Not born right. Not in head." The suturing was painless, as Aedan felt the needle pass through skin; he began to return to his train of thought.

"But you're Grey Wardens."

"Not equal. Taken from home to big tower. Almost made sleepless." Without pausing the elf tied off the sutures and began to lay a patchwork of elfroot over the wounds.

"Sleepless, you mean Tranquil." _Did the Templars try it? Or did something happen?_

"But Wardens came, gave dark. Years and heard song."

"What song?" _No…It can't be the same…could it? Ruck was insane…_

"End song. Walk to dark, not come back. Song pretty." Without drawing attention to himself the Elf slipped a knife from its robes and cut through the knots tied behind Aedan.

Nodding towards the other warrior, Aedan whispered. "Are you not afraid of him hearing us?"

"No hear, song too pretty. Nice before, only song now."

"Is he deaf?" _Does it matter? For that matter, why free me? Some sort of game?_

"No hear now. Likes song too much."

"Why does this Tarven want my blood?" Rising to his feet, Aedan scanned the encampment and saw a bridge leading west. _Trap? Get me to run then hunt me for sport?_

"Man once. You finish song. Not want dark. You should run." The elf stood next to Aedan, watching Gaston place the various implements into the packs.

"Finish…song? You mean the Archdemon? Tarven wants my blood because I killed the Archdemon?"

"Not talk anymore. Once elf. Did good things. Not want to do bad things. Not want to hear song. Song gone and remember. Remember all things done during song. Did very bad things. Want to do good things again." The elf thrust the knife into Aedan's hands as the air began to charge and crackle. "Run. Want to end the bad things."

Rain began to fall, becoming heavier with each second. Above the skies darkened and turned black.

"Had name once."

The air temperature began to drop as a freezing wind whipped up, howling.

"Not remember now."

Realising he had been given a chance Aedan sprinted for the bridge, past the warrior just before the first lightning bolt struck the camp, obliterating Gaston. Halfway to the bridge, Aedan felt a bolt whistle past his head as the Knife and Phileon returned to camp. Daring to look back, Aedan could see the crossbow being reloaded before a shard of ice knocked the ghoul off its feet, dead.

The elf stood in the centre of the maelstrom and appeared to say something before it was lost in the roar of the wind and before a flash of light destroyed the camp.

Running across the bridge, the chill wind biting at his flesh, Aedan felt a heavy weight leap onto his shoulders, and the hissing Orlesian voice rasped in his ear as Demarche, the Knife strained to pull Aedan down. "I knew I should have killed you!"

"Better men than you have tried!"

Roaring into the wind, Aedan threw his assailant over his shoulder, the sudden motion causing the bridge to sway and sending both figures into the inky waters below.

* * *

"Aedan. It's time to wake up." A familiar voice called him in the darkness, stirring him.

"Nnnnh, no."

"Pup. It's time." The voice became insistent.

Opening his eyes, Aedan's world was assaulted by fire and the tang of freshly spilt blood. Around Aedan Cousland his home burned, the bodies of the castle's soldiery strewn the grounds, broken.

More terrifying stood a man Aedan last saw dying as his lifeblood poured onto the stone of their home, as Aedan was dragged away from the battle.

Before him stood his father, Bryce Cousland, his hand clasping the wound that ended his life.

"Pup. It's time that this ended. And time is a luxury we do not have."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"Reckoning"

"It's time we talked pup. And time is not a luxury we have."

Aedan still could not believe his eyes, as his father stood before him, his clothes stained with his blood, the wound that ended his life there for the young man to see, the flesh torn and ragged.

"Father?"

He reached out, trying to make sense of what had happened. Was he dead? Or was this some trick his mind was playing in its final moments? He could feel the heat of the flames on his hand, as though he was really still in Castle Cousland and the keep burned around him.

"Indeed, Aedan." Straightening his clothes, Bryce leaned forward and took Aedan's hand, pulling his son from the ground. "We do not have much time and there is so much I must tell you."

Almost immediately Aedan broke down, falling to his knees. "Father… I failed you and mother, everyone, I'm so sorry."

"You have done no such thing, my boy. You have done nothing wrong; there is nothing for you to feel guilty or ashamed about."

"Nothing wrong? You're dead. Mother's dead. Oriana…Oren… You're all dead because I couldn't protect you!"

Placing his hand on Aedan's shoulder, Bryce looked down, looking into his son's eyes, his own filled with pain as he saw his child in suffering. "Do you truly believe that, pup?"

"I failed, and you paid for that. Everything I try to protect turns dies."

"Aedan, you know that simply isn't true." Bryce knelt down, his eyes level with Aedan's, his clothes looking a little clearer.

Aedan's hand ran through his hair, his voice cracking. "Isn't it? Look at everything I've done and tell me differently!"

"No. You tell me."

"Orzammar. I put Bhelen on the throne and now a tyrant rules the city. He slaughtered House Harrowmont, and anyone who speaks out against him is silenced. Because of me."

Brushing his own hand through Aedan's hair, Bryce began to tidy his son's armour, pulling him to his feet. "Really? Do you not remember your history lessons, of how change is rarely a smooth transition? One era's tyrant is another's reformer. What of the other changes in in Orzammar? Trade has increased, hasn't it? The Dwarves don't stand alone against the Deep Road anymore, is that correct?"

"You travelled to the Brecillian Forest, did you not? You aren't the first of our family to battle against the werewolves, your namesake, **Aedan Mather Cousland**, was Bann Mather Cousland, the one who organised the local lords together and drove them back. For that our family was granted the title Teyrn. Of course, you don't need to tell you of our family's history, pup. You fought the werewolves in that forest, and instead of slaughtering them, you freed those people of their curse and in the process saved the lives of so many innocent elves."

Aedan stared blankly at the ceiling as he pushed Bryce away. "What about the elves who died, Father? I couldn't save them. And those who survived wanted vengeance against the werewolves."

"Vengeance solves nothing! It won't bring the dead back! You simply can't save everyone Aedan.

Roaring into the flames, Aedan fell to floor, his hands laying by his side. "I know… I tried… I tried and I tried and I failed."

"…Aedan… Rendon… What Rendon did was deplorable and despicable. I thought I know him, but the boy I know so long ago died at White River. Had you gone after him after Ostagar, you would have died, and so many would have been lost. You sought justice and you delivered it. Vengeance is an ugly thing, and it leads Men down dark paths. You could have wiped out the Howe name from this world, but instead chose to protect them; you did your duty as a Grey Warden and as a Cousland. For that I'm proud of you."

Bryce sat next to Aedan, the younger man failing to notice that the blood staining Bryce's clothes was gone.

"How can you be proud of me? Twice I was left in charge of soldiers and keeps and twice they nearly fell. People keep trusting me, and I keep failing them."

"Aedan! This is not you. This isn't who I watched grow from a child to a strong young man." Gripping Aedan's shoulder, Bryce held it firmly. "I have always been proud of you, from the day you were born when the midwife put you in my arms, to this very day."

"Those who followed you did so of their own volition. Each soldier knew the risk when they were recruited. Your friend Oghren knew the risks since before you were born, I suspect. Velanna came to you, and asked you to allow her to join the Grey Wardens, despite the risks. That spirit, Justice, fought to prevent suffering in this world and yours. Every soldier, archer, Warden who fought alongside you knew what they were doing. Those who died did so to protect life, so honour their memory and their sacrifice."

"I can't, Father, I can't do it any more…"

Staring into the dancing flames as tears in his shirt began to reweave themselves, Bryce squeezed Aedan's shoulder and spoke. "Everyone feels despair at some stage. I felt it during the war. I lost an entire army, save for fifty soldiers. It should have been the end of us, I certainly felt it. But those people did to protect others, and they are the important ones to remember. You've touched so many lives, pup. Would you really leave them behind to suffer?"

Throwing Bryce's arm away, Aedan threw his face into his hands, screaming. "WHY DID YOU COME HERE?"

"I came here because a little bird told me you were in trouble." Taking Aedan's hands from his face, Bryce could see the tears beginning to well in his son's eyes. "Your brother, Fergus. What about him? He has lost just as much as you. Would you take from him his brother? Or Alistair? You might feel that you doomed him to life on the throne, but I can tell you, that boy is more like his father than he'll ever admit. Both have a good heart, and both felt they weren't ready for the crown. Maric proved them wrong, his son will too."

Continuing, Bryce rose again, lifting Aedan with him. "Leliana and Zevran, you freed them both from their pasts, and gave them a future. As you did with Anders and Nathaniel. Sigrun, well, you gave her a chance to prove her worth to the world. I could go on, but the important fact is, you have always brought the best out in the people around you, my son. Its time you realised that."

"There is suffering in your world, there always has been, and nothing will change that. But as long as there are people like you who refuse to allow the innocent to suffer, the world will be a better place, and you will always continue to do me proud."

Bleary eyed, Aedan looked at his father, all trace of his injuries now gone, Teyrn Cousland now whole. "My world?"

Smiling, Bryce brushed the mess of black hair from Aedan's eyes. "Yes. It is no longer mine, but yours. Aedan, pup, let go of this pain and throw off this shadow, embrace the world and whatever time you have left, be happy, show love, find love. You've already found love, embrace it."

"Little bird?... Love?... Morrigan?"

"Yes Aedan. You loved her, didn't you?"

"I did."

"I know, and she loves you. Your child too. I know you made a promise to her, to never follow her, but Aedan, love finds a way. She came to us, to your mother and I, and told us you needed help… Oh, and your mother would have come, but I think we both know what would have happened if she did."

"My child… I made a deal with Morrigan to bring a demon to this…"

The punch to his jaw interrupted him before he could finish the sentence, knocking him to the floor.

"AEDAN MATHER COUSLAND! No child born in love is ever a demon or an abomination! Remember that!" Bryce stood over him, his fist and jaw clenched, before softening extending his hand to Aedan.

Taking the offered hand, Aedan looked up and whispered. "I'm sorry Father."

"No, I'm sorry Aedan." Pulling his son towards him, Bryce embraced him and whispered. "I'm sorry that you have felt as though you must carry this burden alone. That this life has been forced on you. I am so sorry that you feel that so many of your dreams have died. But that is the whole purpose of dreams, they must die, in order to be rebuilt to far greater heights."

Letting him go, Bryce held Aedan's shoulder and looked him in his eyes. "Pup, our time is about to end, and now heed my words. You stand on the edge of the abyss. If you stay, you **will** fall. Turn around, throw away this pain and be free. And remember, your family loves you, and you have done, and will always do us proud."

"Father!"

"Until we meet again pup."

And once again, Aedan was on his own.

"Father..."

"Oh, such a sentimental scene. And such utter claptrap…"

The voice came from behind, sinister and utterly familiar. Turning, Aedan found the source and sank to his knees at the sight before him.

Jet black armour, polished to a mirrored finish, as vicious wolves in silver decorated the armour and a long jagged sword scraped the stone flooring. The figure that had haunted his mind stood before him again, and now there was no escape.

"You…"

Chuckling beneath the helm, the figure strolled forward, the blade sparking as it trailed behind. "Yes, me. It's been a while since we've had a chat, though I have had my fun since then. Speaking of fun, such wonderful memories you have, such a wonderful source of inspiration for my game. Unfortunately for you, my dear Grey Warden, our game must come to an end."

Stopping before him, the figure, raised the blade to Aedan's neck, then lifted it into an executioner's pose. "I will admit that you have lasted longer than the others. Some committed suicide, others were driven mad, but you…you still somehow fought me all the way. Every soul that thought they had ended me suffered for that, they each soon learned that nothing in this world is for free. And what they took, was mine to take from them!"

"Flemeth…"

Laughing, the figure stopped and lowered the blade, before removing the snarling wolf's head helm, revealing grey hair, and the same maddened look the Witch of the Wilds had when they met so many months ago. "Ah, he finally understands. And such a shame as the game is over. You have nothing left. There is no one left to help you, you have no tricks to save yourself. You have nothing. No witty remarks. No weapons. No hope."

Raising the sword again, Flemeth smiled. "Goodbye boy. Any last words?"

His head bowed Aedan nodded. "You're right Flemeth. I have nothing left. I have lost everything. There is no witty comment. There is no hope…"

The sword fell.

And met a hand made of stone with a deafening clang.

Surprised and confused, Flemeth tried to move the sword, as Aedan continued to speak, rising to his feet as his body began to harden and become like stone.

"And no fear. I have nothing left to lose **AND EVERYTHING TO GAIN**!"


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"The Enemy"

For the briefest moment, the flames paused; no sound of stone splitting, nor the crackle of the timbers burning. For one moment in time and mind, despite the perceived death and inferno, Castle Cousland seemed calm and peaceful, only for that peace to be shattered as the armoured figure was hurtled through the main hall's door.

Rolling across the stone floor before violently crashing against the hearth fire of the hall, the figure remained motionless, before stirring and lifting herself to her feet, brushing the dust from her armour.

Satisfied with herself, Flemeth chuckled to herself as the black armour began to shift, the cuirass becoming softer and lengthened, the pigment now changing to a deep crimson. The heavy pauldrons melted away, revealing black feathers in their stead. Cricking her neck, the apostate's hair tightened, weaving itself to resemble the horns of a high dragon.

At once, the transformation was completed, and Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds stood whole, still chuckling to herself. "Tell me what the matter is, boy? Can you not take a little jest?"

The boulder hurtling towards her disintegrated to dust as the shield was flashed, a reflex born from many a battle. As the dust settled, the barrier flickered and dimmed before Flemeth stepped forward, unharmed and smiling to herself, and too late to prevent the stone fist coming towards her, sending the woman across the room.

As she tried to raise herself from the ground, Flemeth looked at her assailant loom over her, the stone form reaching down and clutching her by the throat. Dragged to her feet, Flemeth choked as she was brought to the golem's eye level. "Something I said?"

The hand around her throat squeezed before throwing the ancient witch across the hall. Turning, the golem started to stomp towards the prone figure, slowly building up speed. Just as Flemeth had gotten herself back onto her feet, the golem collided with her, crashing through the side of the hall into the courtyard of the castle.

Raising its arms, the golem slammed down, seeking to pulverise the witch, only to be stopped by the flickering shield, Flemeth's hands pressed against the magical barrier. Hammering at the shield, a voice rose from the golem, deep, forceful and thunderous, reminiscent of an unstoppable rockslide. "You tried to destroy me, Flemeth! Do not expect me to play this twisted game of yours!"

Grunting with the strain, Flemeth pushed harder against the shield, eventually rolling away from Aedan as she summoned chill winds to slow him. As she watched the golem stop as it became burdened by the weight of ice, Flemeth called out mockingly. "I have lived for many an age, boy, I must do what I can to find ways to entertain myself."

The ice cracked as Flemeth walked away from the scene, the minor damage done to her armour disappearing with a wave of her hand as she continued her tirade. Spinning around, her hands touched the burnt stonework of the keep, caressing the flames engulfing the memories of Aedan's life as she would a pet. "Such a shame, from what I had seen of your mind, I thought you would have enjoyed this."

The ice shattered as the golem form broke free, shifting back to the human form, as Aedan tore through the wind, his eyes transfixed on Flemeth with burning hatred, his jaw clenched, his teeth gritted, with two swords unsheathed and ready to attack. **"I'LL RIP YOU APART!"**

With a roar, Aedan swung the blades at Flemeth's neck, a vague look of surprise in the woman's eyes as she realised the Warden was free. The swords bounced off stone as dodged the attack with a preternatural grace.

Dancing away from the blades, Flemeth was forced back by the press of attacks, unable to defend herself properly, her staff still latched to her back. Despite her speed, from time to time, Aedan would find his mark. A cut to the cheek here, a slash across the arm there, all ultimately leading to the Warden slicing off the top of her staff and several of the stylised horns and swatting Flemeth to the ground.

Panting as Aedan closed in on her; Flemeth threw her hand to the air and unleashed a flash of light, momentarily blinding the younger man. Blinking hard, Aedan found Flemeth had vanished, as he heard a mocking laughter call out around him, Aedan darting in circles waiting for the inevitable attack. "Ha! Foolish child. You think you stopped me in the Wilds? Did you think yourself to be a hero? Bah! You have only done what so many others tried to do before you, and I must say; some of them were far better than you. As you can see, old Flemeth still lives, and those who tried to stop her have become dust and forgotten, just like you will be one day."

From the shadows, Flemeth made her move, summoning a blade of ice as she crept up behind the Warden, the blade ready to strike, rising up for the right moment to pass. And it fell…only to be caught by Aedan's sword, as he spun around with the other sword in hand, and sliced across the armour protecting Flemeth's stomach, a thin red line of blood trailing behind the sword as it left its mark.

Breaking away from each, the pair circling; Flemeth, her armour cracked and dirty, thin streams of blood trickling away from several minors wounds, the Witch visibly tired. In contrast, the Warden seemed to have barely broken a sweat, his armour clean and whole, the wreath of the Cousland crest engraved on the breast plate.

Wheezing slightly, Flemeth grinned as she straightened herself, her disdain for the Warden and the disadvantage she felt in the close quarters of the Keep etched in her face. "Tell me boy, when you returned to your little encampment with my grimoire, did lovely Morrigan at least have the decency to wait until you had removed that armour before she spread her legs? You aren't the first she had, and you most likely won't be the last."

The grin shocked her more than the words Aedan spoke, as he swept the swords against the ground, throwing them towards Flemeth. One blade lodged in the wall of the corridor, as the other just barely missed the woman's head.

"Tell **me** Flemeth. The _**legions**_ of men that you slept with over the ages…Did they die from having to see that wizened face of yours? Or did they kill themselves so that they wouldn't have to touch that husk you call a body?"

"Impudent brat! Burn!" Flames engulfed Flemeth's hands as she summoned a column of fire on the Warden, screaming at the rage she felt at insult of her beauty.

The blaze did not last long however, the battle and exhaustion taking their toll on her. Eventually the flames died down, at first revealing scorched stonework and glowing timbers, and a lone skeletal figure standing in the centre of where the firestorm had struck. Almost immediately the skeleton's form began to change, muscle reforming as plate armour crept against the body as Aedan recovered from the attack.

The rictus smile on the Warden's face as the skin reformed sent a chill down Flemeth's spine. "You aren't the only one here with a trick up their sleeve Flemeth."

"How…?"

Throwing his arms out, Aedan stood his ground, the rictus now replaced by his lips curling in hatred. "You forget where we are Flemeth. You've haunted my mind for months, taunted me, and mentally battered me. You tried to break me down piece by piece. Probably since we last fought, in the Korcari Wilds."

"Ah yes, you remember. At first I could do nothing except wait. When you have lived as long as I have…oh wait… you won't, but that is beside the point, when you have lived the life that I have, you learn not to place hope in one plan succeeding." She backed away, biding her time, hoping for the Warden to lower his guard as she continued her diatribe as she never took her eyes off Aedan. "I waited for another opportunity to reveal itself, and it did. After you and sweet Morrigan left the Wilds, I came across a somewhat capable sort and made a bargain with him. All he had to do was deliver an amulet."

"Flemeth, I know you wish me dead, but are you really planning on talking me to death?"

She spat at him. "Fool. The amulet contained a sliver of my essence; something to protect my interests should you have been lucky. It allowed my return and allow me to deal with you. That second when you ended Urthemiel's life, that chill you felt? That was me."

Standing to her feet, Flemeth seethed at the Warden, "As I said before boy, our game was an interesting distraction, but now it is time to end it!"

"Indeed."

A prison of telekinetic energy encapsulated Flemeth, binding the Witch to the spot with crushing force. "You've had your turn to speak; now it is mine. "

Pacing around the prison, Aedan studied Flemeth with grim determination. "You think me pathetic? Take a look at yourself Flemeth…if the mirror doesn't shatter of course."

"We both have heard the tales of the legendary Flemeth, with a beauty beyond comparison, powers like that of a demon, a woman who would kill a man as likely to bed him."

"The tales forget to mention you're a leech."

"A parasite."

"A coward."

"How dare you!" Hatred grew in her eyes, the prison flexing and threatening to destroy itself, before Aedan raised his hand and concentrated, tightening the cage around Flemeth.

"You know it to be true, how else would you explain the pitiful existence you call your life? You raise a daughter and then when the time is right, you take her body."

Flemeth glared at Aedan, vitriol rising in her throat. "Be quiet fool!"

For the briefest passing of time, there was silence, before Aedan smiled and continued to circle the cage. "Why Flemeth? Don't you like hearing the truth? Then tell me why. Are you afraid of getting older? Or do you fear what awaits you on the other side?"

"I WILL KILL YOU!" Again the telekinetic bars of the cage began to flex and bend, cracks forming in the energy as Flemeth railed against her imprisonment.

"Ah, we've hit a nerve. But there is something you've forgotten Flemeth. Long ago, my parents taught me that wars are not won on the battlefield alone, but in the minds of the soldier, the captains and the generals."

"The mind is the most dangerous weapon anyone can possess. Thank you for reminding of that, and that is why I will **never** let you win"

The look in her eyes told him everything, surprise… confusion… anger… fear. "What!"

Pulling the sword embedded in the wall, Aedan broke the cage and plunged the blade into Flemeth's stomach, the force pinning her against a wall. "Know this Flemeth. If you **ever** harm Morrigan or her child, touch **one hair** on their heads, I don't care if it takes me an age, I will hunt you, I will find you and…"

"And what? Kill me? You tried that once boy and failed." She smiled as bloody foam formed at the corner of her mouth.

"No, I might never be able to truly kill you. But I will always stand against you." Calmly lifting the other blade from the ground, Aedan looked at the Witch as he swung the sword at Flemeth's head. "I will teach you the meaning of **fear**!"

As her head tumbled to the ground, Flemeth's body started to fade, until it and her head were gone, leaving no trace of her behind. Looking around, Aedan saw the flames that once engulfed the castle were beginning to die down, and for the first time in many months, the young man felt at peace.

"Mother, Father. Thank you." Closing his eyes, Aedan Cousland slid to the ground and smiled to himself. "One day I might be able to join you all again, but until then I have much to do and much to make up for. Until then, know that I love you all."

* * *

Aedan's eyes opened to a world of darkness as the waters swept around him. Kicking hard, the Warden swam to the surface as his lungs felt as though they were on fire. Breaking the surface with a gasp, Aedan made his way to the riverbank.

Pulling himself out of the water, Aedan held his knees, taking several deep breathes as he tried to calm his lungs. Above him the storm still raged, bolts of lightning streaking the sky, each accompanied by a thunderous rapture. _Was…was that only a moment? Really? Heh, I guess every moment can change your life…_

The euphoria ended as soon as his eyes caught sight of a figure in the water. Realising he still had the knife the elf had given in his hand, Aedan waded into the river, ready to strike if need be.

In the end, he knew he needn't have bothered as he made his way, he could see it was the ghoul, Demarche, the former Grey Warden's neck at an odd angle. _Must have been broken in the fall… Damn it, can't leave him here._

Dragging the body to shore, Aedan went through the Warden's pockets and pouches, searching for anything useful…and instead found an all too familiar rosewood ring. Elated, Aedan washed the ring in the river and slipped it back onto his finger, and brought it to his lips. "My love. I hope you can forgive a fool."

Returning to Demarche, Aedan found a letter in a special pouch lining the inside of the ghoul's vest. Though partially ruined by the water, Aedan was able to make out much of the letter, which itself detailed Tarven's route, and where Demarche and his group were to meet with Tarven once they had Aedan. Judging where they were, the Warden realised the meeting place was a town less than a day away.

Taking one last look at Demarche's remains, Aedan nodded. "Well, thank you for giving me back my ring, you thieving little bastard. I thought I lost it. And frankly, you're armour is useless, way too small for me. But thank you for telling what I have to next."

Finding a path that led away from the river, Aedan thought of the best route to take to the town. If he was lucky, he might get there a day before Tarven and his followers.

"I'm not running anymore."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The Hunter

_Finally. This is it; it has to be the village from the letter. It has to be, I mean there isn't another settlement within twenty miles. Well, looks empty enough… And I should know well enough by now that looks aren't everything. I must be careful._

Beads of sweat dotted his back, his breath coming in an irregular pant. Travelling down the worn path, ensuring he wasn't seen, Aedan hid behind a large boulder, his hand running through his sweat drenched hair before it passed over several days' worth of stubble, the palm scraping over the coarse black hair. The hard stone felt chilled against his body, relaxing the tensed, strained muscles, beckoning him to rest, to sleep. _Must not rest... Not yet... Too dangerous to stay out here. Have to keep low._

Peering past the boulder, Aedan scanned the village, searching for the tell-tale signs of anyone inhabiting the village. Bracing himself, the Warden sprinted for a ruined wall enclosed around the village, his body screaming for respite, to rest and recuperate. Yet he knew he could not, that there was much to do, too much left undone and far more to make up for. His breath was ragged, his chest slowly calming down with the realisation that there was no one in the village, that it was as empty as the day the last inhabitant left. Peeking over the wall one last time, Aedan hopped over the stonework and crept through the ruins, still wary of some unseen stalker, waiting for him in the shadows.

Hiding in the shadow of an old house, Aedan searched for a rock and threw it towards a well in the middle of the village. Heaving the stone with the strength left in him, the Grey Warden immediately looked for movement in the buildings as stone clattered against stone. With no reaction other than his own; Aedan broke the cover of the wall and walked to the centre of the village, studying the ruined buildings. They were undoubtedly Ferelden in design, sturdy and practical, built to last against the elements, to keep their occupants dry and warm. Indeed, most of the houses were damaged and ruined because of fire, each in various states of collapse, the blackened remnants of the timber frames now stood like the bones of some ancient beast, lost to the world. To the west, the village's tavern stood, one of the few buildings that still possessed a roof, to the east, a building stood with the tell-tale stack of a blacksmiths, its walls long since torn down. Perhaps the greatest surprise had been the village's Chantry appeared to be intact, save for a few marks upon the walls where the flames that had engulfed this village. Indeed, the state of the Chantry immediately told Aedan who had burned this hamlet, during the first years of the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden, the Chevaliers ordered their men to wipe various towns off the map, to provide examples to the Ferelden people of who their new lieges were.

The ploy backfired and many of these towns and villages became rallying points for the various rebels during the occupation, many hiding stores of weapons and supplies, becoming perfect places for ambushes and assaults on the Orlesian troops. Aedan smiled to himself as he remembered those times as a lad, his father had told him of a town that he and Arl Bryland had placed troops, hiding archers in the ruins to pick off the Chevaliers, crippling their horses and pinning them to the ground as previously hidden men-at-arms sprung the rest of the trap and tore into the confused soldiers. And with those memories came a different smile, mischievous and devious, the same grin he would get as a child when the young Cousland plotted a prank upon Fergus or his father.

A plan began to form in Aedan Cousland's mind.

* * *

Since their first meeting all those months ago, Nathaniel knew he could most likely count on one hand the number of times Anders had been struck speechless. This was one of those times and seeing what lay on the horizon, both Grey Wardens stood in silence as the unnatural storm clouds, arcs of lightning crossing the sky, the distant thunder rolling towards them, drowning out the yelps of the Mabari next to them as it dove for cover from the battering barrage of noise.

"What is that? Maker, what is that?" Despite himself, Nathaniel found himself repeating the question again and again as he watched the rolling clouds as the storm move closer to the border.

"Whoever created that storm must have been incredibly powerful…."

Nathaniel turned, staring at the mage, dumbstruck before exploding at Anders in disbelief, frantically pointing at the broiling clouds upon the horizon. "What? There is no way in the Maker's Sight are you telling me that someone created that storm!"

The archer almost began to shake Anders to his senses, when the cold stare in the mage's eyes stopped him, sending a chill down Howe's spine. It was the look of a man in awe of watching a master work, tinged with the fear of someone who knows what it meant to have that much power at his disposal. Finally, Anders spoke, his voice almost lost in the rising rush of the wintery wind.

"Yes…I am…Whoever did this is incredibly powerful…I can only hope that they can control it…"

By now, Fergus had reached the pair, the Teyrn gripped Anders' shoulder and spun him on the spot, as he shook the mage, pleading with him to respond, his anger rising. "What happens if they can't control it? Anders! What happens if they can't control it?"

The mage waved his arm towards the border, and tensed as he realised what he was saying, a lump forming in his throat as the idea turned to the Warden Commander was now quite possibly in the middle of that storm.

"What do you think happens when a storm like that happens? Pray the Maker sees fit to end it Himself…"

* * *

Timbers long since rotted fell away, unable to take the weight of Aedan's footfall, and tumbled into the shadows of the cellar. _Well…this tavern has seen better days…_ Peering past the broken floorboards, Aedan tested the next board, the wood creaking and straining, but the plank held, supporting his weight. Gingerly walking through the tavern, Aedan strained to see anything that might have been of use to him, yet beyond the odd broken table and splintered chair and a smattering of empty wine bottles, nothing offered any use to him in his current situation.

_Nothing here, so let's see what is waiting down in the cellar. Has to be something down there…_

Climbing down the rickety, crackling steps, Aedan staggered into the shadows of the cellar, stumbling over broken barrels and crates as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Soon, as shapes began to sharpen and solidify, the Warden found the remnants of the floorboards that had fallen from above, looking up; Aedan chuckled softly to himself at the sheer simplicity of the trap before him. _Some spare floorboards, rotted of course, something down here and that's a nasty surprise for someone. Now for the nasty surprise…Has to be something down here…._

Spinning around, the Warden searched for leftover weapons, shattered or rusted, something to leave beneath the damaged floorboards. The bare skin of his arm brushed against smooth lumber, the movement knocking the barrel and with it came a sound of a liquid sloshing inside, though perhaps the stranger sound was that of the heavy knocking of something in the barrel. Curious, Aedan lifted the lid on the old chestnut frame and was greeted with the pungent stench of lamp oil. Holding his breath, Aedan dipped his arm into the barrel, hoping to find out how much oil remained. Almost immediately his hand touched against metal, the familiar shape drawing a smile across his lips before he began to cough at the fumes, and backing away, Aedan removed the short sword from the oil. _Well, well, it seems Father and the rebels were far sneakier than anyone ever gave them credit, hiding weapons in the oil barrels…They must have thought the chevaliers were too vain and haughty to check the barrels. _Searching for a cloth to wipe away the oil, Aedan sighed and ripped some of the cloth from the hem of his breeches and examined the blade as best he could in the poor light, trying a few test swings, cutting through the air before easily slicing through the oil soaked cloth. _It's a good blade alright, Ferelden made, still has an edge. At least I have a weapon now. And that oil….I might be able to find a use for it. Better check through the rest of the village for anything else of use._

The growling in his stomach echoed around the cellar, as though some beast lurked in the shadows, hungry and wild after being caged for some long. _And to find something to eat…_

The air felt charged, buzzing with the fury of an oncoming storm, the rolling clouds on the horizon clashed and battered the sky, a storm, perhaps one of the strongest he had seen in his life, was coming, the mage's spell still active, even with his death. _Why…Why did he choose to help me? Was it something in him wishing death? I guess I will never know…Maker, I didn't even know his name…What kind of end is that to have? To die with no name. I…whatever your name might be, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for this chance._

_Now to look for some armour or anything, I can't exactly fight in torn breeches. The blacksmith might be my best chance to find something…_ Walking across the village, Aedan caught sight of movement in the smithy, and slowed his pace, creeping towards the building, his hand gripping the slick handle of the short sword, silently cursing to himself that there was no leather to grip the blade.

A fluttering inside the building shook him from his cursing as a Black Grouse bobbed into view, pecking at the floor, searching for food. _…It seems the Maker does indeed have a strange sense of humour…Let us see if this blade has an edge against living things…_ Cautiously, Aedan lifted the sword, preparing to throw it at the Grouse, either to kill it, or to stun the bird, allowing him to kill the bird.

As if sensing the Warden's intentions, the Grouse started to flap its wings, preparing to escape. With a reflex born from battles and hunting, the young man threw the sword at the bird, the hilt of the blade catching the Grouse at its neck, stunning the bird. Swiftly covering the distance, Aedan gripped the bird by the neck and snapped it, ending its life. _My apologies, but I fear my need might be that little bit greater than yours. _Looking around the blacksmith Aedan began to pick amongst the detritus, searching for anything that he could use, even just to light a fire to cook the bird. Some of the blacksmiths in Highever had kept firestone for added heat in forging the armour for the Teyrn's guard, allowing them to create a higher quality steel, and all of a sudden Aedan found himself wishing he had paid more attention to his lessons as a young boy, more specifically if old Aldous told him where they may have kept the stones.

Moving away a rotted rafter, Aedan stumbled across an old chest, the lock long since rusted, and easily removed with a swift kick from his boot. Peering inside, it had seemed as though the Maker was truly smiling up him, as his hands brushed over the rings of a chainmail cuirass, lay upon the rest of the armour. The dull iron had a faint dusting of rust, easily knocked away with a swift slamming against the wall, motes of rust and smithy soot falling away.

Beneath the armour lay an oiled tarp, wrapped around a finely crafted ash bow and a quiver of arrows. Most of the arrows were useless, the fletching long since rotted and decayed, but several still seemed true, more than able to fly through the air when fired.

_So it seems I have weapons and armour and a little food…I've had worse starts. No firestones though so I suppose I have do remember those lessons of Father's of how to start a fire._

* * *

"Felsi, how is he? We've been wondering…." His hands wrung each other, as Alistair had become prone to doing in recent months, since becoming King, time often played up his thoughts, his fears and his insecurities.

The Dwarf just stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head, and launched into a tirade of Dwarven words, many of which Alistair was sure to be common Orzammar swear words, all the while Felsi strode the main hall of the Vigil, wildly gesticulating, threatening and cursing imaginary targets. Eventually Felsi just stood before the Arl's throne and collapsed onto the heavy oak throne.

"Those bloody mages aren't too sure. He'll recover alright. That bastard is too sodding tough to kill. Stone take him."

Alistair chuckled to himself, swiftly ending when he caught the Dwarf's angry glare. "Of course, that's a bad thing…"

Felsi leapt up in a flash, storming across the chamber towards Alistair. "The sodding bastard is going to wish he was dead when I get through with him! HE THINKS THAT BECAUSE HE HAD A CHILD WITH ME HE CAN JUST RUN OFF TO THE WARDENS SO HE DOESN'T HAVE TO CHANGE THE BABY OR TO SUPPORT HIM, OGHREN HAS ANOTHER THING COMING!"

_Stone help you Oghren…_

* * *

_When I was a boy, probably no more than seven winters, my parents began to teach me how to use a bow. I still remember the first bow they gave me, made from oak; it was a simple weapon, no decoration, just a single piece of wood, the ends topped with nocks made from antler. The string was made from Dragon's Peak linen, coated in beeswax to protect it from the elements. I remember seeing this bow for the first time as a bow and how it seemed so much taller than the lad looking at it, yet, looking back now, it must not have been that large, else I would never have been able to use it. Heh, I loved that bow. And Beast did too if I remember correctly, spent half the day chasing him around the castle, and by the time I got it back, well, it wasn't half the bow it used to be…_

The target was set across the village square, an old vase he had managed to find in one of the house. Walking back across the square, Aedan took up the ash bow and began the process of restringing the bow, the old lessons and methods second nature to him.

_Ah, but the first true lesson my parents gave me was that, and the one I've kept with me whenever I learned the art of other weapons, no matter how much I practised, how long I trained, I should never believe I had completely mastered a weapon. The moment that happened would be the moment I failed. You never truly master any weapon, but you can become proficient in its usage. Over the years that one lesson stuck with me, the one thought that crossed my mind whenever I trained. Everything else comes to me naturally, by pure instinct, bred into my being by years of early morning training, thanks to my mother. _

Closing his eyes for a moment, Aedan breathed in the cool air, as it carried the scent of roasting grouse, his mind momentarily taking him back to brisk winter mornings, the same targets in place as his mother waited for him to begin their daily ritual of training.

_Even now, with this bow in hand, I'm still doing the same things I learned so long ago, visualising my target, imagining the line my arrow will take when I let it loose. Then take an arrow and place it on the ground to follow the line I've created in my mind. Next, we have the stance, the tip of my boots touching the arrow, my feet shoulder width apart. My front foot moves back half a step, and now I'm in my shooting stance. Swiftly swoop down and grasp the arrow, without breaking the stance. Then, back straight, a little rap from the end of mother's bow which to this day I can still feel, to correct my posture. I nock the arrow in the centre of the bowstring and let the shaft rest again the rest of the bow, just above my left hand and make sure the fletching is in the correct position. Now, grip the bowstring between my first two fingers and my thumb, and lock my left arm straight…elbow out, nearly forgot that._

The stance came to him naturally, his eyes still closed as his grip tightened on the bow, his head hanging low, the quiver of arrows fastened to his back, waiting to be draw.

_Next, lift my head, look for my target. Got it. Now, we come to the real test. Lift my left arm, still locked and pull the string back until my thumb is under my chin. Use the shoulder and the back, Aedan, there is no need to strain yourself. Aim… Keep the aim until you're ready and when you are… release. Hold your position until you've hit your target._

The motion fluid and swift, an arrow was drawn, nocked, pulled back and fired across the square, shattering the vase.

_I've never mastered any weapon. I would never want to, because it would mean there is nothing left to learn, about it or the rest of the world. All I can hope to become is sufficiently skilled and a little knowledgeable._

_But with a bow like this, well, I know that I am extremely proficient._

_This ends. Tonight._

* * *

_It's strange that it has come to this, preparing for a battle in a village that isn't on any map, and probably hasn't been since before I was born. And yet, this feels right, like this is where I should be. You know, I think you would be telling me that this is foolish…that what I'm doing is madness, especially fighting alone, against an unknown enemy. _

Turning the rosewood ring over on his finger, Aedan reached for the last piece of grouse, as he gathered his thoughts. The fire offered a little heat in the tavern, the smoke slowly rising up the chimney. He knew that it was a signal to everyone nearby, yet now, Aedan felt a kind of peace, as though the waiting would soon be at an end. He had spent the last few hours studying the village, preparing traps as best he could and remembering lessons taught to him by Leliana and Zevran. There was little else he could do now but wait.

_And you would be right, my love, about this, and so much more. I have made so many stupid mistakes, allowed too many to be hurt because of my own inaction; that I allowed myself to be influenced by anger, by my guilt…by your mother, I will never live that down, will I? So many put their trust in me, and what did I do? The same thing I am doing now apparently, browbeating myself. No more._

The air outside felt charged and electrified, as the storm approached. Turning the ring over on his finger, Aedan smiled, thinking of when Morrigan had given him the ring, the bluster and slight blush in her cheeks as he took the ring with his thanks. Even now he could still catch the faint scent of her, the cooling air across his skin feeling like the caress of her hand, the light touch of her lips against his skin.

_I know that if you were here, you would tell me to walk away, to get myself to safety and let someone else deal with this. But you and I both know why I cannot, why I will not walk away…I will not let anyone else fight my battles for me, just as I cannot let anyone else suffer. If I walk away, who knows where this Tarven will go next, who he might attack. No. If this man wants me, let him come, I will make him pay in blood for each threat he poses. I have hidden away from the world for far too long, let him come, he will face a true son of Highever, and everything that means!_

_I would give up my life to see you and our child, my love, and I will tear apart anyone who would threaten either of you. This, I promise, my beloved Witch. I say this because, you Morrigan, are my heart, and our child is my soul_

Holding a piece of broken mirror before him, the Warden took up shears he had found in the tavern and began to clip away at his hair, lengths of the black hair falling to the ground.

_This would be so much easier with a little help…_

* * *

The six figures marched into the village centre, searching for someone amongst the ruins. Six, former Grey Wardens all, their armour and equipment by brutal combat against the Darkspawn and from the look of the bloodstains, several members of the Ferelden soldiery. The first two seemed to be the scouts of the band, clad in studded leather, and at one stage, both must have been human, the first, a crossbowman, kept his head bare, revealing a head almost completely bald, save for a couple of tufts of hair clinging to his head, his face locked in a cruel, rictus grin. His compatriot, it seemed had fared little better in life, his face crisscrossed with scars and bruises, his hands wielding two viciously curved daggers.

Watching the group, Aedan moved in the shadows of the houses, lightly stepping over the loose floor boards as he sought a better sniping point. A brief smile crossed his lips as memories of learning to stalk deer silently came back to him, to blend into the surroundings and to keep the prey from catching your scent, to keep them from even knowing you were there until the killing blow. Climbing into the loft of a crumbling, Aedan hid in the shadows as he studied the rest of the group. Behind the scouts came a warrior, an elf by the height and stature, carrying a shield and mace, the Griffon symbol of the Order almost lost beneath the dents, scratches and stains of combat, his plate armour was stain with blood and dirt, as was the great helm that enclosed his head. Next to him stood a mage, the human looking sickly and weary as he leaned upon the staff for support, his robes torn and ruined by recent battles. His eyes, even from this distance conveyed a life exhausted and at its end.

After them, came the last, and from Aedan's perspective, most dangerous warriors of the band. A Dwarf , a heavy maul strapped to his back, stepped into view, his head shaved bald and what must have been a thick, full beard was now just a few thin strands that hung from his chin. His head seemed to be covered in a wealth of tattoos, or at least they looked like tattoos until the Dwarf took a blade from his belt and began to draw the dagger across his scalp.

The final warrior, the leader appeared, even across the village square, the stench of decaying flesh reached out to Aedan, as the Warden caught the smell of the decaying hands hanging from the leader's armour and pauldrons. What had once been a man, was now something akin to a Darkspawn, the creature's sawblade cutting through the air, before it hissed loudly, much of its words lost in it's malformed throat. "Demarche! Where you are? Show yourself!"

Hidden in the shadows, the loft and the now rising winds conspired to hide Aedan's voice as he called out. "Demarche couldn't make it. You are Tarven, are you not?"

The hiss turned to growl as Tarven searched for the voice calling out to him, the realisation slowly dawning upon the ghoul. "COUSLAND!"

"I want to discuss terms of surrender!" The Warden drew an arrow from his quiver, nocking it and began to draw on the bowstring, his target already chosen.

The group had drawn into a defensive position, instinct and training taking over as Tarven bellowed to the sky. "NO SURRENDER YOU! WITH US NOW!"

"Not mine! Yours! If you surrender now I promise you will be treated fairly and put out of your misery as painlessly as possible." _One chance, cannot waste this…_

The Ghoul was screeching now, cutting through the air with the sawblade, his followers backing away, and gave Aedan no small amount of pleasure as he found the first crack in Tarven's armour. "NO TRICKS! FIND YOU! SENSE YOU!"

"I doubt it. You might be able to sense the Taint, but right now, all you can sense is the poison creeping through your bodies. Compared to you, I'm barely a scent on the wind; you and your followers just reek of the Taint! Now, I offer one last time, will you surrender?" _There we go, sight the most dangerous target, breathe, aim a little higher….breathe….._

"FIND HIM! BRING ME HIS HEAD! NOW!" Tarven grabbed one of the scouts and threw him to the ground, bellowing at the others, scattering them in several directions.

_Well, I tried. _His target now sighted, now separated from the others, Aedan released the arrow and watched as it whistled through the air and slammed into the mage's chest, pitching him from his feet. _And got him! One down. Five to go._

Already sprinting to the first of his traps, Aedan called out to Tarven and his followers, the ghouls confused and angry that one of their number was dead. "You want me. Come and find me!"

_Now it begins._


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Reckoning

Lightning streaked across the sky, briefly bathing the village in a flash of light as bright as a summer's morn as thunder rolled through the air scant seconds later, setting Aedan's teeth on edge, the sound thumping through his mind as he crept beneath the floorboards of the house. Holding his breath Aedan grasped the short sword with one hand and felt ahead with the other. The storm was growing stronger, that much was clear, even under the floorboards Aedan knew that it would not be long until the storm would be directly over the village. The Warden nearly laughed to himself as he thought of the idea of a battle in the rain as somewhat clichéd, something to spice up the stories his father and Nan would tell him when he was boy; a lone, heroic Grey Warden battling hordes of Darkspawn in the rain, seemingly one glimmer of hope in the long dark of a Blight. While his own experiences had taught him that such events rarely worked out in favour the lone fighter, the memories of the old tales gave him hope, and that had almost been worth everything that Aedan had gone through the last few months, to know what hope felt like again.

Heavy footfalls above him brought Aedan back to under the floorboards as an armoured figure stalked the house above, muttering to himself in the Dwarven language. As his eyes adjusted to the dark Aedan used falling clouds of dust to judge where the figure was moving, a slow ponderous pace. Daring to move forward, Aedan lifted himself to spy on the figure through the floorboards. _Definitely the Dwarf, I can smell the blood…Ugh! Smells like the corruption in the Deep Roads…Is that what happens to all Grey Wardens in their Calling…_

Dropping low again Aedan crept forward, mindful of any loose stones or rats, anything that might alert the Dwarf to Aedan. Silently praying to himself, Aedan had hoped that the ability all Grey Wardens had to sense the corruption of the Darkspawn meant that he could stay close to the Dwarf and perhaps remain undetected due to the Taint that seemed to be overwhelming Tarven and his followers. Shifting a stone to one side as quietly as he could, Aedan tried to formulate a plan, to deal with the Dwarf before it, and it seemed more like an animal the more he observed it move about, found him. _Floorboards are old, near rotten…maybe I could…No, it would take too long, too risky…Damn this!_

Lightning flashed again, and this time Aedan noticed the Dwarf muttered again, Aedan recognising several words, what sounded like swearwords, the same he had heard Oghren shout out when he was in pain._ He's blinded…has to be!_

Taking advantage of the Dwarf's pain, Aedan kicked at the floorboards nearby, the wood cracking and splitting as he tore through them, the rolling thunder covering the sound. Not giving the tainted creature a chance Aedan pulled himself through the gap he had created and grabbed the Dwarf's legs, pulling back hard and causing the warrior to stumble. Lifting himself up, Aedan leapt at the Dwarf, sword in hand and grabbed it's arm. Aedan wretched the creature's arm up, twisting it and plunging the sword into the Dwarf's armpit, past the amour and into its heart, ending it's life in one swift motion.

Breathing hard, Aedan caught a glimpse of a figure ahead, raising something towards him. In the half shadows of the house, Aedan ducked at the last second as a crossbow bolt hammered into the wall behind him. Rolling away, the Warden leapt to his feet again and crouching low, ran the span of the room in a few strides, barrelling into the scout.

As the crossbow clattered across the floor, Aedan struggled to keep the scout pinned as he rained blow after blow upon the ghoul's head. The anger in him rose with each fall of his hand, as he began to realise that he was seeing more and more of his future in the ghoul's face, twisted and pathetic, pocked with lesions as the blighted Taint within ravaged his body. Anger, that he, that the others had been lied to by the Wardens. Anger that this life had not been his choice, that it had been forced upon him after that night that Howe betrayed his father. Anger that he had himself condemned good people to this end.

The anger clouded Aedan's mind briefly, slowing his punches, allowing the ghoul to reach down to it belt and draw a dagger. Before he could stop the ghoul, Aedan felt a dagger plunge into his shoulder, through the old chainmail, the tearing pain snapping him back from his rage. Sneering at him, ghoul ripped the dagger from the Warden's shoulder, knocking Aedan into the nearby wall with a kick of its iron shod boot.

Shaking his head, his blood trailing down his arm, Aedan reached out, blocking a slashing attack the ghoul's dagger, the creature hissing at him through ruined teeth. As the scout's dagger sliced across of his arm Aedan roared in return, the sound lost in the tumultuous rage of the storm. Lashing out, the Warden caught the ghoul's nose with the ball of his palm, breaking the bulbous mass and knocking the ghoul off balance.

Trying to rise to his feet again, Aedan's hand as he tried to grip the wall, his hand slick with his blood. The ghoul recovered first, leaping at the Warden, dagger in hand.

Backing away from the ghoul, Aedan searched for something to defend himself with, his weapons lost in the struggle. Crashing onto the floorboards and scrambling to its feet, the ghoul hissed again, spitting blood from its injured mouth. "I'm going to gut you, boy!"

Gritting his teeth, Aedan rolled again, his hand outstretched, his fingers feeling wood… stone… blood… and something else! Gripping it, Aedan turned onto his back in time to see the ghoul raising its hand in the air, ready to strike! Kicking out, Aedan's foot connected with the ghoul's knee, the bone buckling and breaking from the kick, the creature collapsing to the ground, trying to swipe at the Warden with the bloody dagger.

"Little bastard!" Flecks of blood stained the ghoul's mouth as it tried to push itself back to its feet, only for Aedan to bring the dwarf's heavy maul down onto it's arm, smashing the limb. "Going to gut you! Going to kill you slow!"

A chainmail boot kicked the ghoul in the face, the creature rolling onto its back. In a brief lull of the storm, the ghoul heard the last words it would hear in this world before the heavy maul was brought down upon it's head. "Not tonight. And not by you!"

Rifling through the ghoul's armour and clothes, gritting his teeth in pain as the wound in his shoulder flared with each movement, searching for something to stop the bleeding. _Can't stay here long. Even if they didn't hear the fighting, I cannot risk staying here. Have to get somewhere safe._

Throwing the body down in exasperation, Aedan scanned the floor for the ghoul's crossbow and found it, scattered into the house's hearth. Picking it up, trying not groan from the pain and the loss of blood. Tearing some of the underlay from the chainmail, the Warden quickly bound the wound across his shoulder, kneeling to keep low and out of sight. Sighing to himself, Aedan sneaked out of the house, the smell of blood, his own and ghoul threatening to overwhelm his senses.

* * *

The storm raged and bellowed across the horizon, as though some ancient creature had been stirred from its long slumber, searching the skies for the foolish mortal that had unleashed upon the world again. Each of the three men looked at the storm as they climbed over a hill, each trying to make sense of the unnatural storm in their own way.

The hair on Anders' arms flared up, buoyed by the charge in the air, the mage shivering by the sheer amount of magic released by the storm. The wind whipped around him and the others, drowning out his calls that they should find shelter.

Despite the howling winds, Fergus looked back and caught sight of the two Grey Wardens and Aedan's Mabari struggling against the wind. The pained look in their eyes as well as what he felt nearly tore Fergus apart. They were becoming lost in the storm, and with every second lost, it meant there was less of a chance to find his brother.

It seemed as though Andrastre smiled upon them and ended the storm herself, as the winds began to die down, and the clouds cleared to reveal the starlit night sky.

Amazed, Fergus looked up, speechless that the storm had ended so suddenly as Anders stood next to him and almost chuckled. "The storm…whoever cast the spell that summoned it... The spell must have ended. Andrastre's knickerweasels…"

Even as he laughed softly, Anders felt Beast push past him, barking madly and running in a circle before running off. Without a word between them, Nathaniel and Fergus chased after the hound as Anders sighed and followed them, murmuring. "I guess we're not stopping for the night. They never made us do this much exercise in the Tower… Well they did, but not after that one escape…"

* * *

Peeling away some of the cloth, the blood tacky, Aedan reached over to his torn shoulder and emptied a flagon over it, hoping the ancient mead would clean the wound. Wincing at the fresh pain, the Warden took a fresh strip of cloth and began to bind his injury. Looking at the scars on his chest and arms, Aedan wondered how anyone could still be alive after that punishment, let alone still be standing._ So many scars… So many reminders of the past… But I refuse to let them dictate my life anymore. My past is where it now belongs, behind me. I do not know what lies before me in the future. But I do know this, what truly matters now, lies within and I will never let it be caged again!_

Tightening the bandage, the Warden looked around the cellar of the tavern, trying to regain a sense of his surroundings and remembering the combat he had just escaped from. _The mage is dead, the dwarf is dead and so is the crossbowman. Three dead, three to go._

Footsteps above rattled the floorboards above his head, a light smattering of dust rained down upon Aedan.

_Company._

Quietly reaching for the crossbow, the Warden stepped into the shadows, placing a quarrel on the stock and aimed at the stairs leading up to the tavern. He hated crossbows, ever since he was a boy. The weapon went against everything he had been taught about training and discipline, that it took months, even years to learn the basics of combat. Yet a person could learn to use a crossbow in a day. There was nothing truly honourable about the crossbow, yes, it could punch through the armour of a Hurlock, but there was no discipline to it, it was too easy to kill with it. Every style he had learned taught him his limitations, to marshal his strength and energy but he had also learned to kill when absolutely necessary. Aedan knew himself to be a trained warrior, a killer, that would never change, but he was never a murderer and that is what the crossbow represented. Murder, death made too easy. The weapon in his hand, though once dwarven in make, was foul and filthy, as though the taint of the Darkspawn now seeped into the cool red steel.

Holding the crossbow, Aedan felt ill, unsure whether it was what the crossbow represented, or the tainted he railed against that infected it.

Bringing the crossbow to his uninjured shoulder, Aedan aimed at the stairs, and waited.

He didn't have to wait for long, as the unseen ghoul made its way across the tavern, each step taking it further and further away from Aedan. It was difficult to judge due to the cavernous surroundings, or perhaps of the seemingly light set, but the Warden could not tell where the enemy above was going. As he tried to figure out who the assailant could be, a thought crossed Aedan's mind. Who could it be? The scout? If it was, his lack of skill with the crossbow might work out in his favour, the light armour would most likely fail to protect against the quarrel.

_But if it is one of the others, the ones wearing plate….._ Even though the quarrel would definitely penetrate armour, there was no way of guaranteeing that it would stop them, and the time it would take to reload, or to drop the crossbow, the ghouls could most likely cross the distance and kill him, especially in the confines of the cellar.

_I need a plan, and quickly…_

Looking around, Aedan spotted the mug he had used in cleaning his wounds. Quickly lowering the crossbow he picked up the mug and hefted it in his hand, the remaining drops of mead spilling out. Almost immediately the Warden plunged the mug into the oil barrel that had contained the old weapons, and scooped up some of the oil. Making his way to one of the few remaining pillars, Aedan waited as the ghoul.

The creak of the floorboards and the steps and the tell-tale clink of plate armour made Aedan hold his breath for a second, waiting for the right time. The footsteps seemed light, even considering the armour. _The elf. Has to be._ As each step came closer, Aedan inched the mug of oil into position. His lungs began to burn as his held his breath, trying not to make a sound as the warrior beyond made its way towards him, bringing its mace down on random barrels and crates, as if taunting him and daring him to move. Seemingly bored, the elf tapped its mace on the pillar, unaware that Aedan was on the other side. The sound of metal clattering on stone rang out across the cellar, and hidden for a few seconds, the sound of the elf sniffing, trying to track Aedan.

_Now or never then…_

The Warden swung around, slamming the mug into the elf's head and diving away, shards of clay embedding into his hand. The elf howled and brought its shield arm to its head, oil now falling into its eyes. Standing up, Aedan pulled a shard of clay from his palm and stepped back from the elf.

"Atrast nal tunsha, friend." The elf flailed blindly towards Aedan, the young man easily avoiding the attacks as he picked a warm stone from a pouch on his belt, a firestone glowing in his hand, a slight his as the stone sealed the cuts on his hand. "Let me help you find your way in the dark."

The elf remained silent as it tried to attack as he was consumed by the flames, wildly swinging his mace in the air as Aedan stood away, and picked up his sword. Sidestepping the attacks, the Warden made his way behind the ghoul and brought the sword down upon the elf's neck, ending its life quickly.

"I apologise for that. Whoever you were, you deserved more than this, killed in some cellar by one of your own."

Pulling the shield from the elf's arm, Aedan secured it to his back and went back to find the crossbow.

_Almost done…_

Aedan bounded up the cellar.

* * *

The storm had ended, bathing the village in a pale light under the waning moon, giving the buildings a faint glow from the rain. Rain that now gently fell as the two figures approached each other. The smaller of the pair offered a vague nod of its head, revealing rotted teeth spread apart by gaps. Ironically that had been a mark of Markus' life before the Grey Wardens, spent thieving and begging for scraps of food as a boy. When the Jader town guards caught him stealing from a merchant's stall, he had been so malnourished and underfed that his arm snapped when the guard grabbed it. Of course it didn't stop Markus from stabbing the guard in the neck and running where he literally ran into Tarven and Savine, both fresh members to the Order and their commander Etienne.

Etienne had impressed by Markus' agility and determination, while Savine had been nauseated by the stench from the beggar. Etienne conscripted Markus there and then, satisfying the furious guards with a promise that in all likelihood the beggar would die against the Darkspawn. At first Markus was horrified at his fate, that is, until he saw the food laid out at the Grey Warden's keep outside of Jader. From that day he followed Tarven and Savine without question, as long as there was the promise of a full stomach when they returned from their missions.

Markus still followed Tarven, no longer hungry, the Taint now nourished him. No, now he followed for the promise of death and murder. The former beggar had always enjoyed the thrill of bringing a blade across an enemy's throat, and with Tarven, there were always throats to slice open. The song he heard now didn't matter, only providing Markus with a means to dance his way to the thrill. Half hopping and half prancing, Markus approached Tarven, the permanent sneer on the warrior's lips betrayed far more emotion than it usually did.

In the rare moments of lucidity he had, Tarven could string whole sentences together, usually when he was with Savine. No longer as he spat out curt questions to the scout. "Find the Warden?"

"No, and the others are dead. Gruner and Benoit. I found them in one of the ruins. Gruner's got stuck and bled like a nug and Benoit's head got…"

The gauntleted hand gripped Markus' throat and began to throttle him before dropping him. Tarven spoke again, hissing at the scout. "Find. The. WARDEN?"

Gasping, Markus was about to speak as a quarrel struck his throat, tearing it open in a spray of black blood. As the ghoul dropped, Tarven swung around, searching for the Warden. And spotted him, standing on the other side of the village, gesturing to Tarven to follow him, as Aedan ran into the Chantry.

Growling, the ghoul followed.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Pain

Time was of the essence now. With Tarven, the last ghoul, coming after him, he would barely have time to grab a hold of the shield he had left in the Chantry, let alone reload the crossbow.

This building, what was left of the Chantry, had been chosen for a specific reason. The narrow aisle between the pews would make it easier to defend himself; the ghoul wouldn't be able to flank him without exposing itself to attack or getting itself caught on the old rotten benches.

Running down the aisle, Aedan threw away the crossbow and scooped up the shield and sword, turning quickly and planting his feet in a defensive stance. Adjusting the leather brace around his left arm, the Warden gripped the second iron brace before withdrawing the sword from the sheath set behind the shield. The shield was a buckler, not a large shield by any means; its main purpose was to deflect blows away from the body. Often they would have had a short spike or sharpened edge, making it a secondary weapon, perhaps even allowing the wielder to strike the enemy in the face or body if the opportunity arose. As it was, this buckler had been ill-kept, rusted and broken; where once there had been a spike in the centre of the shield there was now a broken stump.

The ghoul burst through the doors, charging at Aedan, clearly visible bloodlust in its pitch black eyes. It lunged for Aedan, its curved, jagged sword aimed towards the Warden's neck. Quickly stepping back, Aedan deflected the sword and pushed back against Tarven, slammed his head against the ghoul's malformed face, once, and drawing blood with a second.

Roaring in pain, Tarven pushed back, nearly knocking Aedan from his feet. Only a loose stone prevented Aedan from toppling over, the Warden braced himself again, his left arm trying to keep Tarven's sword arm away from him, just as the ghoul's shield arm locked over his wrist. Face to face, the Wardens were locked, Aedan head-butted Tarven a third time, and shattered his nose. As thick, dark blood seeped from his ruined nose, Tarven snapped at Aedan, trying to bite at the younger man with rotten and broken teeth.

Staring into Tarven's eyes, Aedan could see nothing human, only an animal, rabid and vicious.

Taking a risk, Aedan brought his knee up into Tarven's side.

The kick connected with a sharp crack. Grunting, the ghoul threw his shield away and returned with a punch to Aedan's cheek. Bone cracked and broke as the punch connected, causing Aedan to reel away. Tarven took advantage and brought the sword up in a two handed swing. Desperately defending himself; Aedan brought the buckler to bear against the blow.

Blade met shield and both fighters staggered back from the impact, Tarven shaking his head, a wild look in his eyes. While Aedan's arm dropped low, the force of the blow numbing his arm and with it the shield slipped from his grasp.

Growling once more, Tarven leapt at the Warden, slashing wildly at Aedan. Aedan dove from the attack and howled as the blade caught his shoulder, biting deep into the flesh.

The fresh wound sent Tarven into a frenzy, trying to hack at Aedan without thought or reason, the Warden rolling away from the attacks. Yet every few attacks Aedan would block or avoid, there were one or two that would make it through his defense. A slash across his bicep here, a slice on the thigh of his armour there- each cut drawing blood.

Slowly backed into a corner, Aedan kept up the defense as best he could but unless he could end the battle quickly, Tarven would have his head. Ducking low from yet another attack, the Warden barrelled into Tarven and bounced off the ghoul's armour, his sword clattering away. Almost immediately Tarven was back to pressing the attack, his blade overhead and swung down towards Aedan. The Warden kicked out, his heels connecting with the ghoul's knee and was rewarded with a cracking sound. Tarven's attack fell short and embedded the blade into the stonework of the Chantry.

Undeterred the ghoul tried to pick himself up and lift the blade again, only to be caught in the jaw by Aedan's boot. Kicked again and again, the ghoul grabbed Aedan's foot and twisted it sharply, drawing a howl from Aedan as the ghoul clambered over him and slammed an elbow into his shoulder.

Tarven began to hammer at Aedan's face, roaring as he cracked the younger man's cheek. The animal savagry in Tarven's eyes began to fade only to be replaced by a sadistic glee as he dropped his elbow on Aedan's shoulder again. Backhanding the Warden, Tarven grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, the stench of stale and rotten blood keeping Aedan from passing out.

"Stay awake boy. Not finished with you, not yet." Ignoring the pain from his knee, Tarven picked Aedan up from the floor and hurled him into the pews.

"Hunted you for too long. Want to savour death."

Pausing for a moment, Tarven twisted his knee back into place and roared. Limping over to the Warden's prone form, the ghoul kicked at him repeatedly before rolling him onto his side. Hissing as he knelt down, Tarven grabbed Aedan by the neck and opened his eyes.

"Not finished with you. Want…**I** want you to be awake. The song. So distracting."

Tarven seemed to struggle with referring to himself and shifted slightly, pinning Aedan's wrist under his knee as he continued to speak, a seemingly rare moment of lucidity for the ghoul now. Receding lips and sharpened teeth moved and spat as Aedan fought to remain conscious.

"**I**…will kill you boy. It will be…slow. And painful. Yes. Painful, very painful."

Another backhand and the ghoul spat again, peering into Aedan's eyes.

"**I** will take your head. Wear it on belt. **I** know you boy." Another slap. "Have heard tales from Savine."

A flash of recognition crossed Aedan's mind, waking him. The Elven Warden that had come to Denerim and spoke with him, delivering orders that he would be taking command of the new order of Grey Wardens in Amaranthine. His lips curled in an angry sneer, an action Tarven laughed at, as much as a ghoul could laugh.

"Yes, yes. Savine. Knew all you, heard the songs and tales. Know about your friends and where they are. When **I** take **your** head, will hunt each of them."

Dirty fingernails dug into Aedan's cheek and drew blood. Hissing and breathing in, Tarven let go of Aedan's face and grabbed his wrist before the Warden could land the hit, snapping it like a twig.

"Want to know what **I** will do? The bastard. Many old passages in castles, easy enough to find if you know where to look. His eyes **I** will take. Leave him mewling in pain before killing him."

A blackened tongue slipped past Tarven's teeth and licked what was left of his lips. Savouring the taste of the drying blood from his nose, the ghoul continued.

"The dwarf. Will feed on his mate and brood before him I kill him. Want to know what will happen to the bard and elf? Heard the bard sings like bird. **I** will find out how well she sings as **I** cut her to pieces. **I **will cut the heart from the Crow, and show it to him before he dies. Then **I** will eat his flesh and feed the scraps to the dogs."

Anger flashed in Aedan's eyes as he rallied against the ghoul. Tarven almost smiled at the effort.

"The Qunari and old mage will die in fire and by blade. Yes. Will be satisfying to watch them die. Screams will be like the song. Song. Hear the song."

Tarven closed his eyes and sighing with a euphoria Aedan had seen in Templars who had been in the presence of lyrium. Tarven let go of his wrist and brought his elbow down on Aedan's shoulder once more before opening his eyes as Aedan's shut his in a wordless shout of pain.

"**I** am not done yet." The ghoul began to throttle Aedan and hissed with all the menace of a serpent. "Your brother will die slowly. **I** will take an arm, then the other. **I** will take his legs, starting with his feet and moving up. Leave him broken and begging. Then** I** will crush his head slowly."

Aedan's eyes remained shut as his breathing began to increase, short shallow gasps as Tarven tightened his grip around Aedan's throat.

"And last, the heathen whore. Oh yes. **I** know about her. **I** have heard tales of the Hero and the Witch. **I **will take your head to her. And you will watch as **I** break her! **I** will have my fun with her! Now open your eyes. **I** want to see the terror in your eyes before **I** kill you."

Nothing happened as Aedan's eyes remained shut as his breathing became unnaturally quick; the anger rising in the ghoul, Tarven hit him again and bellowed.

"OPEN YOUR EYES!"

With that, Aedan's eyes opened but where a few moments before his eyes had been green, they were now the colour of blood. Wrenching his wrist back into place, the Warden's hand moved faster than Tarven could. Stabbing his fingers into the ghoul's eye Aedan pulled away, taking the eye in one swift motion. As the ghoul roared in pain, Aedan freed his other hand and latched onto Tarven's throat, hefting him into the air and slamming him onto the stonework.

"**YOU WANT TO SEE FEAR? TERROR? I WILL SHOW YOU THE REAL MEANING OF TERROR!"**

Tarven, his eye a ruined mess, clawed at the Warden's armour only for a boot to come crashing down and crushing his hand. A chain mailed gauntlet clenched around the ghoul's neck and lifted him into the air before he was hammered into the stonework again. A lower, guttural growl emanated from Aedan's throat.

"You want to look into my eyes, Tarven. Then look!"

The ghoul opened his eyes in a daze and saw a visage of a demon given human form as Aedan peered into his tainted eyes. A pallid aura seemed to envelope the Warden, unsettling even the ghoul before he was overwhelmed with a thousand images of death and destruction. The screams of a village he had ordered burned years before to contain a darkspawn raid echoed in his ears. The harrowed screams wormed their way into his mind, cutting through even the song of the Old Gods and touched a final shard of the man who once was.

Visions of his hunt seared into his vision, of the ordinary people; farmers, soldiers and children all, he had killed. Each blooded face haunted him, telling him his time had come and there would be no reunion of the song for Tarven Duveaux in this life or the next.

Still stunned and fighting off imaginary ghosts, the ghoul put up no resistance as Aedan picked him up once more and lifted him overhead. Ignoring the pain from his injured wrist and the lacerations on his body, the Grey Warden rested the ghoul's weight on his shoulders for a second before he slammed Tarven head first onto the stone floor, breaking the ghoul's neck.

Several small wisps left Tarven's broken body and hung in the air, swaying in the slight breeze entering the building. These little balls of light; blue and red, hovered like fireflies. If any saw this strange sight, none would realise they were witness to a rare event; a Reaver devouring the last, lingering life from their foe. The wisps swayed gently one last time before flying towards Aedan. The lesser injuries sealed themselves as Aedan absorbed the wisps. The cracked cheekbone that Tarven had inflicted shifted and twisted itself back into place, drawing a sharp hiss from Aedan as it did so. The pallid haze around the Warden began to fade, leaving him tired and drained but smiling to himself nonetheless. This battle was over and despite the revelation of what would happen to him in later years, Aedan Cousland felt free and alive.

There would come a day when his time was done, but it would not be this day. He had learned that while not every hero was pure, they could make the right choice. Loghain, Howe, Duncan, Tarven and even Flemeth had each in their own way taught him that his decisions still mattered and could still count for something.

"Come what may. I will not run anymore."

Wincing slightly as he picked himself up from the floor, Aedan walked towards the Chantry's door. And was greeted by the sight of Beast bearing down on him, the Mabari leaping at him in joy and slobbering its tongue over his friend's face.

Laughing, Aedan rubbed behind the hound's ear and smiled. "Where did you come from, my friend?"

"He led us to you little brother. We've been following you since you left Amaranthine." Fergus came running along the path with Nathaniel and Anders trailing behind. All three looked as tired as Aedan felt, his brother beaming as he approached. "Aedan, what happened to you? You look like you decided to fight a High Dragon. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Fergus. Better than I've been in a long time."

"Oh. Good."

Fergus slugged his younger brother with a right hook and knocked him to the ground.

"THAT'S FOR MAKING ME WORRY!"


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37.

An End

"How's your face, Aedan?" Fergus sat next to his brother, watching as Nathaniel and Anders dealt with the remains of the ghouls with a pyre. The Teyrn still could not quite understand what had happened here; Aedan had been vague and blasé about the attack. Indeed, his younger brother had spent more time apologising to Fergus for making him worry, that the last few months had been brutal for him but there was no excuse for how he had acted.

Aedan himself had just sat on a battered stool, holding a poultice Anders had prepared to his cheek. Fergus had half expected his younger brother to be furious at the punch, instead he had just smiled, laughed and threw his arms around Fergus.

"I'm fine. Better than I have done in quite a while." The Warden Commander paused for a moment and shifted the poultice slightly. "You still hit like a little girl though."

Fergus chuckled to himself as he realised it was just like old times when they were boys. They had always gotten along, but like any family they had fought at times and had made light of it afterwards. Yet, it shouldn't have been like that. Too much had happened to both of them to go back to the way things were before the Blight. He knew that and he suspected that Aedan knew that all too well. Uncorking his water skin, Fergus took a sip of the tepid water and handed the skin to Aedan, who took it and nodded his thanks. "What happened to you, Aedan?"

There was silence as Aedan washed his mouth with the water before he tilted his head back. "I lost my way. It comes down to that. Too much happened too quickly for me and I lost my way."

"Is that all?" Fergus could tell that his brother was hiding something, keeping some secret from him.

"Well, if you want the truth, I may have been controlled by the Witch of the Wilds who wanted to destroy me and…."

Fergus cut him off with a light jab to his shoulder. "If you're not going to be serious then don't bother."

Aedan shrugged and corked the skin again before handed it back to Fergus. The commander rested the back of his head against a wall and watched as Anders used a spell to increase the heat of the burning pyre, turning the flames a deep shade of blue. "How is he?"

Fergus followed Aedan's gaze and was mesmerised by the shifting flames, not hearing the question until Aedan repeated it. Blinking quickly, the older Cousland turned and looked at Aedan. "Oghren will be fine. He'll be spending some time recovering, but I'm sure he'll be back on his feet before the winter; that's what the healers told Alistair."

"Good. I should have known that dwarf was too hard to kill." Aedan smiled to himself and closed his eyes. Anders had done as much as he could to heal Aedan's injuries, though the broken wrist he had suffered would take a few weeks to mend, was now bound and splintered with bandages and several light branches.

Beast yawned and rested his head on Aedan's lap, his fingers absentmindedly scratched the hound's ear.

Every thought Fergus had of pushing his brother for information about what happened was lost when he saw the pair reunited. Beast had always been Aedan's and to see them together again just made Fergus smile and join his brother in closing his eyes and leaning back.

Nathaniel and Anders hurled the last ghoul onto the pyre and stared wordlessly as it burned before seeking a place to make camp for the night, leaving the brothers alone. Nothing was said between the pair as they sat against the wall, Aedan scratching Beast's ear while Fergus reached for the water skin again.

Neither spoke for several moments before Fergus, eyes still closed asked a question he already suspected he knew the answer to.

"You won't be coming back with us, will you?"

"No."

Fergus sighed and opened his eyes. "I thought so. I will be honest, Aedan. Part of me wishes you would. You're my brother. You've done so much for Ferelden and there is much more you can do. And that part of me also knows that it can't ask you to do that. You've done more than your fair share."

Fergus paused again and turned towards Aedan. "Do tell me you're going to look for her."

"I don't know Fergus. I made her a promise." Aedan looked down at the rosewood ring on his finger. "The fact of the matter is; my life is going to be a short one. Do I want to search for her, and even on the remote chance that I do find her, I know that one day, I am going to have to leave her and whatever life we might have."

"Aedan. Do you love her?"

The younger Cousland answered without pause. "Yes. Of course I do."

Fergus clipped the back of his brother's head and glowered at him. "Then why do you even have to question it? So what, you might have to leave her one day. Would you rather have one moment with the woman you love in your arms and then die? Or would you rather live for eternity and never have that feeling?"

Aedan rubbed the back of his head and stared at Fergus. "Yes, you're right. But did you have to hit my head?"

"Yes. You're an idiot. It's the only way you'll learn." Fergus bowed his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "Look. Aedan. I do not know how long you might have in this world. But then no one knows. We go when we go, it might be tomorrow, or it could be in the next age. None of us know, nor should we know. Each day is precious and vital. We can't waste what time we have with wondering and living with regrets. I say this as your brother, Aedan. Go. Search for Morrigan and do not live your life with regrets."

Fergus opened his eyes and found he was talking to fresh air, Beast looking at him with a quizzical tilt of his head. Aedan came around the corner, carry a backpack and sorting through some provisions before looking up at Fergus. "I agree with you, nice speech by the way. I had no idea you had it in you. By the way, I'm taking some smoked meat, a length of rope and a blanket. I don't think Anders will miss it. But if he does then tough because I'll be gone… But tell him I said thank you."

Fergus chuckled, his brother joining in. "Some things never change, do they, little brother? What will I tell the others? The Hero of Ferelden can't just up and disappear, now can he?"

Aedan stopped laughing, and thought carefully before throwing the backpack over his shoulder. "I have no idea. Make up a story I suppose. Maybe I've gone off on some sort of quest. Maybe a lost thaig somewhere with an unspeakable horror! People love that sort of tale."

The brothers looked at each other, Fergus rose from his and threw his arms around Aedan. "Look after yourself, little brother."

Aedan returned the embrace with one of his own. "And you too Fungus."

With that, Aedan let go of his brother and started along the trail. After several steps, the Warden turned and called back to Fergus. "Just do me one small favour, please. Look after Alistair. Don't let him near any cheese, he has an unholy love of it. I mean it. Keep him away from any cheese."

Fergus smiled slightly and nodded in agreement, watching his brother walk away until he was out of sight.

Elfroot leaves fell into the bowl as the knife cut along the stem. The leaves would be useful for several poultices, while the stem itself could be used in a broth for the coming winter. Life in the marsh had been quiet, few travellers if any made their way along the old routes, a fact Morrigan had considered could only be a good thing. The fewer people that she encountered meant the fewer people knew that anyone lived in this area of the marsh. Anonymity, for the moment, protected and her child.

Indeed, the child was growing, happy and content. It had been difficult to leave the baby behind as she searched for roots and herbs. In the end, Morrigan had chosen to go out while the babe slept and was safe and secure in its basket. Though, while she had found it difficult to admit it out loud; she had always kept herself within earshot of the cottage in case the child cried.

In her heart though, Morrigan knew that they would soon need to leave the cottage. Winter was approaching and she would need to find a more suitable place to stay. The repairs she had done to the cottage were adequate for the warmer months, but the Witch knew that it would be next to nothing when the snows fell.

As she dropped another stem into a bowl, a flash of familiarity crossed her mind and with it come a sneer of anger. Morrigan rose to her feet, arcs of lightning sparking from her hand as her fingers clasped around the energy and formed a sphere of light. A promise had been broken and now the price would be paid. With an instinct born from a life in the Korcari Wilds, the Witch of the Wilds knew exactly where the bolt of lightning would strike should she release it from her grasp.

And there they were.

The same eyes; older, tired, yet seemingly full of life again. The hair was shorter than she had remembered it to be though it was still thick and messy. The hound as always stood beside him, ecstatic and bounding with joy at the sight of the witch, almost begging to be allowed to run to her.

Aedan, her Warden, stood before her with a hint of a smile curling the corner of his mouth.

"Hello Morrigan."


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38.

A Beginning

"Hello Morrigan."

The same voice and tone, as calm and gentle as he ever was when he spoke to her. The same green eyes, older but with that same brightness she had always remembered, lit up as he saw Morrigan stand and turn towards him. His hair was shorter than she had remembered it to be and was now accompanied by several slight streaks of sliver over his right temple. His chin and jaw wore a slight shade of a beard, adding further definition to his face, seemingly gaunter, thinner than when she had parted from Denerim that fateful night. The Witch could see that Aedan had lost something in the past few months. What that was exactly, even she could not tell. What had been lost had been replaced by something new and vital. The man before her was not quite the man she had left, Aedan Cousland had changed and right now Morrigan could not tell if that change was for good or ill.

The ball of lightning crackled and flared in Morrigan's hand, growing in intensity as she aimed it at Aedan, still standing several paces from her. "I told you not to follow me. You gave me your word, Warden."

Beast, who had been bounding with excitement and running in circles around Aedan, paused and stood still, confused at what was happening. The Warden rested a hand on top of the hound's head, calming him with a gentle scratch behind the ear.

"Indeed. And I know what I said. I have kept my promise. Technically, I didn't come looking for you. Beast did." Aedan smiled and motioned to the Mabari, rubbing the hound's head. "He missed you and he wanted to find you. How could I say no to a face like that?"

A bolt hit the ground a pace before Aedan. "I am in no mood for your games! 'Tis bad enough that you have broken your word to me, but 'tis pathetic that you try to blame that hound."

The smile faded from Aedan's lips as his shoulders slumped. "You're right. Forgive me. It has been a long journey with just Beast for company and –"

"Why are you here?" Lightning crackled from Morrigan's hand as she stepped between Aedan and the cottage. "Tell me why you are here or leave!"

"I love you."

The three little words stunned Morrigan. Her hand shot up and pointed at Aedan's head, thrown by what Aedan had just told her. Trying to keep her composure, Morrigan set her jaw and stood before the door of the cottage as Aedan remained still. "You came all this way to tell me that you love me?" The barest hint of a crackle in her voice betrayed the incredulity she felt at those three little words. "You came all this way to tell me that? Then you are more of a fool than I had thought! Now leave this marsh while you still can."

"Let me finish, please." Aedan turned as his hands fell by his side. "Let me say my piece and I will leave."

The lightning arced around Morrigan's hand. "Speak then and begone."

Nodded his head, Aedan began. "Morrigan, I love you. I will always love you. It tore me apart when you left, but I could… would never blame you for that. I understand why you left and how important it was to you that you did so."

"Is there a point to this, Warden?" Pacing slowly towards the door, Morrigan kept her eye on Aedan, watching as he never moved from the spot where he stood. "My reasons were my own and you have no right to pass judgement on them."

"But that's the point Morrigan. I'm not! All that mattered to me was that they were important to you." Aedan lifted his arm and ran his hand through his hair. "I love you Morrigan. Everything about you, I love. Even the infuriating aspects about you." He smiled slightly. "Especially the infuriating aspects about you. I love you with every fibre of my being, heart and soul. I would do anything for you in a heartbeat. I promised you that I would always keep you safe and I meant it. I would march on the Black City itself to keep you safe. I would do anything for you, because your happiness, your life and the life of your child is far more important than my own."

Stepping back away from Morrigan, whom he had already sensed was ill at ease with what he was saying, Aedan continued. "I do not know how time I have left before the Taint overwhelms me. I know that the day will come when I will have to travel to Orzammar and enter the Deep Roads for the Calling. I accept that without compliant or fear."

Breathing slowly, Aedan ran his hand along his jaw, allowing a soft scratching sound from the days old stubble to fill the air before he spoke again. "I have to confess that there was another, selfish reason I came here. I came here to see you one more time and have one last memory of you. You and your child, and I say your child because it would far safer for them to never know who I am, deserve a far better life than I could provide. All I know is how to fight and wage war. I am no diplomat, nor am I a farmer. All I know is how to inflict pain, and I know that one day I will cause you more pain than either of us could stand. I don't want that. I know that I have caused you enough pain as it is."

Aedan reluctantly took a step forward, holding his arms out before him. "My brother advised me to hold you in my arms and never let you go. But I know I can't do that. I know that if I did, there would come the day I would have to leave, but I won't have the strength to do that. Morrigan, I came here because I know that seeing you; telling you that I love you would be enough for me. I have lived too much of my life with regret, I can't waste what little is left with more regret. Were I to die tomorrow; I could rest easily knowing that I saw you one last time and that I spoke my piece."

"Ask me to leave Morrigan. Ask me to go and I will. I'll go and you won't hear from me again. I give you my word."

Morrigan remained silent and stood beneath the lintel of the cottage's door. She tried to speak but instead chose to lower her hand as she tried to make sense of what Aedan had said.

"I would, but it seems that I cannot trust your word, Warden. You have already broken it before, have you not? I will not grant you a clear conscious; that you may walk away when I know that when you have promised before that you would not look for me, yet here you are."

Aedan nodded and removed the gauntlet that covered his hand and held his hand up for Morrigan to see. "The ring you gave me. You said that it would allow you to know where I am and that there was a chance that I too would know where you were. It is the single most important item in my possession. I have worn since the day you gave it to me." With that, Aedan removed the ring and attached it to Beast's collar.

"Take it to her boy."

"Morrigan. Ask me to leave and I shall. I will not follow you; I will not bother you or your child. I swear this to you, with all my heart."

The Witch of the Wilds took the rosewood ring from Beast's collar and turned it over in her fingers. For several minutes she said nothing, instead she stared at the ring.

"Leave, Grey Warden."

Aedan nodded and turned. "Farewell Morrigan."

The Grey Warden walked away from the cottage and from Morrigan without looking back. Morrigan herself remained stood beneath the lintel and was about to enter the cottage when she noticed that Beast remained by her side, looking up at her. "Begone hound. Can you not see that your master has left? Should you not go with him?"

Beast simply licked the Witch's hand and sat beside the door. Morrigan pulled her hand away from the hound and pointed towards Aedan. "There. That is with whom you belong, you flea infested mongrel! Leave here with him."

Beast whined, resting his head on the stone sill.

"Maddening." Morrigan knelt before the Mabari and lifted his head so she could look him in the eyes. "I know you can understand me, hound. Aedan has made his decision as I have made mine. I will not change my mind despite what you may think in that small, insignificant space you would call a brain. Now begone!"

A lick to the face was Beast's response and drew a short exasperated curse from Morrigan as she shot up straight. "Truly, you are as stubborn as your master! You know as well as he does that I will not be enslaved or beholden to another. What he said was true. Love is pain and death. Love causes more problems than it solves, if the blasted notion actually solved any!"

Morrigan threw her hands into the air in a silent protest as she realised her son still slept. "Love is a maddening curse. Love has me speaking to a hound whose ambitions are limited to gorging himself on poisonous herbs and seeking to lick his own crotch. I have made my decision hound. Now. Leave before I lose my patience with you and decide I need a stole for winter."

Beast stood up and licked Morrigan's hand again before gently tugging on the end of her sleeve. Morrigan sighed and looked at the hound.

"I will not chase after him."

A light rain fell as he travelled along the path with each step sinking as the rain turned it less of a path and more of a quagmire. Beast had remained with Morrigan, as Aedan had suspected the hound would do. It had brought an extra measure of comfort to know that the Mabari would stay with Morrigan and the child and keep them safe.

As he approached the edge of a small stream, Aedan felt a mix of relief and disappointment. Relief; that he had at least told Morrigan what he had felt - nothing else now would cause him any regret. Disappointment; that things had not gone better between himself and Morrigan. He had tried. And he had failed. There would be no regrets now, but failure was rarely a simple matter to deal with.

Stepping over a log Aedan stooped by the stream and filled a water skin. He failed to notice a raven flying overhead and landing behind him. The only thing that alerted his presence to Morrigan was when he stood up and her hand slapped him across the cheek.

"You selfish, idiotic bastard! You thought you could break a promise that you made to me, dictate terms to me and just leave?" The Witch slapped his face again with fury burning in her eyes.

"I do not need your protection. I am not some sort of damsel from a child's tale for you to rescue nor am I a delicate flower to be protected from the dangers of the world. I will never be such. I have lived a life on the knife edge before I met you, and I do not need a guardian or saviour. Aedan Cousland, you are a fool!"

Aedan was about to speak when Morrigan grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards her, kissing him deeply.

"You are a fool. But you are also my fool."

She kissed him again, this time Aedan returned with one of his own. "Morrigan, I…"

The Witch of the Wilds silenced him and took his hand, slipping the rosewood ring onto his finger. "Your hound is far too persuasive for his own good. I gave you this ring, it was mine to give. I do not believe you can simply return it, my love."

Aedan kissed her again and slipped an arm around Morrigan. "Morrigan, I can't give you anything, save my heart. It will always belong to you. Now and forever, my love."

Morrigan smiled softly and caressed Aedan's cheek. "Let us return home. I believe it is time for you to meet your son."

Aedan beamed with joy at the words. "My son? Yes. Yes I would love to meet him. Let's go home."


End file.
